


Photograph

by IDidntHaveAnAffair



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1960s, Developing Friendships, Discontinued sorry to say, Falling In Love, I promise it gets better tho, I'm Bad At Tagging, Multi, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Time Travel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 11:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 54,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDidntHaveAnAffair/pseuds/IDidntHaveAnAffair
Summary: A girl by the name of Claire Villers lives in modern day London and wishes to pursue her musical career. This is a lifelong dream that she inherited from her father. She lives the life of a struggling musician. When her boyfriend breaks her heart she is thrust into the wildest adventure of her life, finding herself in March of the year 1964.Originally posted on my Wattpad btw





	1. Across the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> This a fanfiction about the iconic british band the Beatles. At best it'll be mostly historically accurate, but I will take liberties on some things, such as the romantic lives of the Beatles...
> 
> I don't mean this story to be disrespectful in any sort of way or form. This is meant for both mine and your simple entertainment, so please bear with me.

"Darling, how've you been since we last talked?" Claire was talking to her dad through Skype since that was the only way to instantly comunicate with him.

She was thankful for video-calls existing since they could sign to each other and not have to communicate solely through letters.

When Claire was only barely eight years old, her parents had been out on a date, celebrating their seven year aniversary. And just when they were returning home from the restaurant, another car had slammed into theirs on the right side. Her father had been driving and her mother sat in the front passenger seat. Police and ambulances rushed to the scene to help everyone involved. But when they managed to pry the car door open, Mrs. Villers seemed to be in the worst situation of all. She was rushed to the hospital, but died before they could get there. Mr. Villers had been begging to see his wife through the whole night as he too was rushed to the hospital.

His ears had been ringing for the whole two days after the crash and he barely even heard the doctors telling him what had happened to his wife. As soon as it registered in his head, he had ran to the bathroom and thrown up. Tears never left his eyes that day. And then his daughter came to visit him along with her grandmother. Claire had wrapped her tiny arms around him, holding him for hours on end. She even fell asleep at one point.

For a few months after the incident he had unintentionally distanced himself from his daughter and the rest of the world. He finally snapped out of it when she told him that she missed him and wanted her dad back. Mr. Villers tried his absolute hardest to be a good father. Not a day went by when he didn't miss his wife.

Over time he began to lose his hearing in both ears, the doctors telling him that they were afraid this would happen eventually as a result of the crash. He was forced to learn sign language and learn to read lips as well. Many of his family members learned to sign as well and he was happy to see his closest people taking initiative in such a way.

"I've been good, dad. Life is life..." she signed, a sigh escaping her lips.

"Oh, I know what you mean. I remember when I was trying to live this life as well and let me tell you, darling, it only get's better with time," her dad had always been one for beautiful words, she guesses that that's where she got it from.

As Claire grew up, her father had decided to teach her to play music instruments. He had naturally been very good at guitar and taught her that one first. He even gifted her his first and favorite guitar on her 16th birthday. It was a worn out white Fender Stratocaster that he'd gotten second-hand during his own teenage years. Mr. Villers held it very near and dear to his heart as it had been by his side through most of his musical pursuits.

At one point Claire had conjured an itch to learn to play the piano. And her father taught her all that he knew. In the end Claire was more talented on the piano than the guitar and would fill the air with wonderful melodies.

When she turned 19, Claire decided to pursue her own musical dreams, much to her dad's pleasure. He didn't want her to leave, but knew that it was important for her to get out there and live through her own experiences. So she left for London after she finished school with flying colors. There she found a job and eventually after a bit of struggling she even found herself playing music at pubs around London. These were nothing special at all and usually she would play classic rock bands and songs that people knew and loved. For this job she got a few extra pounds of money, exposure to people and experience in dealing with an audience.

Claire smiled at him and took another sip of her coffee, "dad, I've been offered a gig for a few nights at a club and I'm not sure if I should take it..."

He seemed thoughtful for a bit, "well, what's the problem then?"

"This club seemes a bit sketchy. As in a lot of bad people go to it..." Claire elaborated further.

Mr. Villers' eyes widened at this, his hand movements frantic, "you're definitely not going to work there, Claire!"

Claire was a simple girl really. She lived in a small flat in London and somehow she struggled to even pay for that. You see, she worked at a nearby coffee shop. It was quaint and owned by wonderful people. But they still weren't getting as much customers and, therefore, money as they could and so the pay here wasn't exactly spectacular.

Claire wasn't originally from London, she had came here to pursue her dream of being a successful musician. This was a dream passed down to her by her father. All his life he had been chasing after this dream of his and he almost got there once, only to be stopped by the birth of his only daughter Claire. At first he had been filled with anger towards his then girlfriend and the baby herself for hindering his chances of what he thought would be a happy life. But then Claire was actually born and he honestly couldn't think of a more beautiful human being ever existing. He fell in love with his tiny daughter and his girlfriend all over again. That day he vowed to never leave them, be the best man he could and for his daughter to have a positive role model. He married the love of his life not even a year later. They faced many hardships every day, but somehow pulled through anyway. Their situation had improoved greatly after a few years of struggling.

Claire simply nodded in agreement to his previous statement and looked down at her notebook opened up on an unfinished page. She'd been trying to write a song, but seemed to not be able to find the right words to express herself.

"How are you and Teddy doing?" he asked her, catching her attention and making her blush.

Claire had been dating Teddy for a while now and she really liked him as well. He was sweet to from the day they met at a party thrown by a mutual friend back in their hometown. They'd managed to both move out here together. Teddy was studying at uni to be a visual artist and lived in the dorms that it provided. Up until this point their relationship had not fallen apart and they were thankful for this.

"I'm actually meeting him at a restaurant later this evening. He said he has something important to tell me. I don't know what it might be, he seemed very nervous..." she trailed off unsure of what awaited her.

She saw a smile etch onto her dad's face, "maybe he's going to propose..."

"No, dad, he wouldn't. Not now," Claire was sure of this.

"Well, why not? I was extremely nervous when I proposed to your mother. Guys are always nervous for these kind of things."

She knew he had a point, but it seemed highly unlikely. The two hadn't even been together for that long. Claire understood why her father would think this. Teddy was taking her to a restaurant to tell her something important and he seemed nervous about it. Her dad had always been one to look on the bright side and only think about the better outcome of any situation.

"It's just not the right time yet. We've only known each other for a year or so..."

"Oh, so what! If it's true love, then you can get married a few months after knowing each other," her dad tried to reason, only making her giggle in return and smile fondly at the man.

"That sounds like some princess fairytale, dad..." Claire was trying to downplay her own doubts about the relationship's depth.

"...and besides, Teddy's been acting a bit strange as of late."

"Strange how?" he inquired further.

"Well, he hasn't been as affectionate as he used to and he's been 'suppossedly' spending a lot of time with friends...I just...I don't know..." Claire explained.

"Oh..." her dad seemed deflated by this turn of events.

He'd really been hoping that his daughter would be getting engaged and then married. In his mind it would've helped her stabilize her life. But maybe it's better this way, now she doesn't have to worry too much about how their relationship would play out if she got succesful and had to move around a lot.

Claire looked at the clock in the bottom right corner of her computer, her eyes widened at the information, "dad, I have to go or else I'll be late for my date with Teddy!"

"Well you better go then...oh! And wear something pretty!"

"Like what, dad?"

"Remember that dress I bought you last time you visited? Yeah wear that one! And don't forget the silver pendant that Teddy gave you..."

"Geez, dad, when did you turn into such a fashionista?" Claire asked with a laugh.

Her dad only laughed along and soon he signed goodbye. She switched off Skype and closed her laptop. Claire strolled to her wardrobe and got out the suggested dress. It looked as if lavender flowers were extracted and sown into a dress and then someone decided to add more of other flowers as decoration. The dress was a flowy summer sundress and reached her calf. Claire added some low-heeled shoes, a purse and some accesories to complete the look.

Once finally ready, she left the flat and hailed a taxi for herself. The car took her through the city of London; even after living here for as long as she had, Claire still marveled at the beauty of this bustling city. She herself was originally from South Shields.

"Thank ye, 'ave a nice day!" she spoke as she exited the cab after having paid the fare.

"Ye're very welcome, luv! Have a nice day yerself!" the man driving the cab was a chatty elderly man, quite cheeky too...

Claire entered the nice looking restaurant, gingerly looking around for Teddy. He'd been the one to pick the restaurant and he'd chosen one that wasn't overly fancy but looked more posh than the places they'd usually go to.

She spotted him sitting at a two person table, nervously wringing his hands, "hey, Teds!"

"H-hi, Claire..." he spoke meekly, not meeting her eye.

As she took the seat across from him, "what's up wi' the fancy restaurant choice?"

An alarmed look crossed his face, "oh, no, no it's nothing. Jus' wanted to treat ye..."

Teddy was never one to do these things, so forgive her if it seemed suspicious, "right. Anyway, how's your day been?"

"Oh me? Nooo," he waved his hand in a 'pshh' motion and sipped his drink, "tell me 'ow you've been."

"Quite good I suppose. I talked to me dad before I came here."

"How is 'e doing, by the way?" Teddy was trying his best to steer the conversation away from the burning topic.

"He's fine. Said he's a bit lonely, but otherwise doing great," she smiled fondly at the thought of her dad.

A round of silence snuck over them, making the boy fidget with the fork on his side. He wasn't ready, he needed more time, but he also wanted to just stop pretending. Teddy sat, not knowing what to do. His eyes were focused on Claire, who was cheerily looking over the menu. He had to say it, he had to.

And there's no better time than now, "Claire!"

She was startled by his high pitched squeal of a voice. It wasn't usually that way, he was just beyond nervous right now.

"What?" she waved her hand in his face to get him back to reality.

"Oh...OH! Yeah, right, ummm."

"Well, get on with it."

"So ummm...where do I begin?"

Claire cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"Remember a few months ago we went to tha' club together?"

She nodded along and he continued, "and ye went dancin' with a few of yer friends, leaving me at the bar..."

"Where's this going, Teds?" Claire put her hand on his, in an attempt at comfort.

Teddy drew away from the touch in discomfort, "I...I met a girl there. I-I've been seeing her ever since and I thi-think I've fallen for 'er..."

For a few long seconds, that seemed shorter upon retrospect, Claire stayed completely and utterly frozen in shock. Teddy began to grow concerned. He put his hand on hers and squeezed it, to shake her out of her stupor. But Claire didn't budge at all for a while. When she noticed his hand holding hers, Claire immediately retracted it. A concerned look flashed across Teddy's face.

She sat there not knowing how to respond to something like this. Out of everything that she was expecting to hear, this was honestly the least anticipated of them all.

"Claire...I...I'm sorry, so, so sorry..." Teddy tried to somehow save the quickly spiraling relationship, "ye're an amazing girl, really, but I jus'...don't love ye anymore..."

'Ouch! Could he be more blunt?' she asked herself. Claire sat still for a while longer but then she finally snapped out of it and spoke to Teddy.

"You idiot! If ye were falling for another girl, didn't it occur to ye to maybe break up with me then and stop stringing me along?" Claire was begining to fume with anger.

"I..." Teddy stayed on that note for a few seconds.

Claire pinched the bridge of her nose, "it's such an assholish thing to do, ye know that right? What's yer excuse for leading me on?"

"I don't know! I thought that, you know, maybe things wouldn't actually work out with her and in that case I didn' want to lose ye..." Teddy was meek and little in his seat.

"You selfish shit!" Claire got up from her seat and in a rage she did probably the most dramatic thing she's done yet.

She took the glass of red wine that a waiter had just poured and threw it all over Teddy. It quickly stained his shirt and while the boy was dazed, Claire took her purse full of belongings and rushed out of the restaurant.

She was speedwalking down the pavement in her heels as angry as she could be. A voice kept calling after her to come back and just talk like 'normal people'. Claire flipped off her pursuer, the ever persistent Teddy, and kept quickly rushing down the street towards god knows where.

Claire held herself together by holding onto her forearms. It was an effort to stay warm in this early March evening and to keep herself from completely breaking down into a pathetic heap.

Rain was sprinkling down around her to add to the dramaticness of the moment. Wind blowing from her back helped to propel her forwards faster than she would normally go. She ran through puddles, probably ruining her shoes in the process. Claire continued to hear Teddy's shouts for her to stop running and continued to ignore them valiantly. Running further and further she ended up shaking Teddy off. Claire didn't want to talk to him at all after what he'd revealed.

When her feet started to fall against wood instead of concrete, Claire finally took in where she had taken herself. It was a pier that she had ran to. Thankfully even the londoners found this weather awful enough to not go outside, so Claire was alone at the pier.

She stumbled along the way and made it to the end of it, where she held onto the railing as tears finally began to leak from her eyes. For so long she had held it in and not cried, but obviously this was too much to handle and so she let herself cry and cry and cry. Claire didn't take much notice of just how unsafe this pier was. Wooden planks stuck up in some places and others were noticably very rickety. Where had she even brought herself

The wind was gaining pace and throwing her around, making her stumble along the old wood planks. Claire's feet intermingled with one another almost making her trip a few times. Eyes brimmed with big wet tears made her a tad disoriented.

A particularly strong and violent gust of wind swept at her, making her stumble on an extremely unsafe area of the pier. Her heavy footfalls broke the wood beneath her sending her tumbling downwards.

Claire fell down quickly into the freezing cold water below. It swallowed her up immediately, drenching her to the bone. Her clothes were soaked and heavy, dragging her down and making it hard to swim.

Her breath was disapppearing quickly and her mouth opened up on insticnt to draw in more breath. That was a bad idea obviously as water entered her lungs and burned significantly. She tried desperately to do something and she trashed around wildly. Spots began to dance before her eyes in what, under more normal circumstances, could've been considered quite psychedelic. It might've even been beautiful, had she not been drowning.

Finally the water got the best of her and Claire sunk down and down, her eyes closing as she stopped strugling. Blackness invaded her vision and the pain soon disappeared, to be replaced by a lulling sensation, like she was being pulled in every direction, up, down, sideways. It felt slightly like falling.

And then she began to see lights and colors dancing around her like a tornado. The images began to clear up and the first one she saw was of Teddy sitting in his appartment with some girl. She seemed to be very beautiful, perfectly blond with bright green eyes and an angular face with high cheekbones. Teddy seemed distressed and the girl had a hand on his upper arm, in an attempt to calm him.

The picture morphed into her father. He was sitting on a couch in his home, drinking from a cup and wiping his tears. Something had upset him or maybe he just seemed lonely. The man stood up from his seat and went out of the scene.

Just as her dad left the scene, four figures entered it. They came running around and seemingly having fun. These figures seemed more blurry and out of focus, but somehow Claire recognized them. They felt familiar in some strange way. For a while she could even hear the four figures laughing as they jumped around.

And then they began to fade away as well, filling Claire with a sense of dread. She began to feel pain returning to her body and a sense of consciousness invaded her mind. Then, like a brick to the head, she felt herself suddenly laying on the ground. Her head and chest throbbed with an extreme pain and she could vaguley hear waves lapping at the shore.

The sun shined brightly at her eyelids, so it was a bit startling when suddenly a shadow was cast over her. Claire finally opened her eyes, unable to move anything else. It required a lot of effort from her to get them open, but when she did, she was face to face with four people. Her eyes darted to each one, examining them. They seemed to be examining her in return, quite confused obviously.

The realization struck her swiftly, the realization of just who these four guys were. Her head spun madly at this. This can't be real, this can't be happening. These must be fakes or something. Only impersonators of the real people.

"Oh, fuck, it's you guys..." the words escaped her mouth in a breathy slurred mess.

One of them chuckled and cracked a smile that was soon wiped off by the daunting look that another one shot at him. They kept staring at her for a while longer, finding this weird girl fascinating.

Claire's head lulled back onto the warm wet sand. The guys rushed forwards to try and stop her from passing out. Ultimately they were too late in their effort and Claire slipped into unconsciousness yet again, leaving the guys to make a final decision.


	2. Tomorrow Never Knows

Claire opened her eyes abruptly, only to find that a ceiling was staring back at her like a big white endless space that she could float up into. She was swaddled in a thick feathery mess of sheets. And dear lord were they comfortable. In fact, so comfortable that she could've sunken into them and forgotten all about the pain in her chest or the fact that she was being stared at like she was some poor zoo animal. The key word was 'almost', since they seemed to all want to question her immediately.

Well that was after they took notice of the fact that she had actually woken up. Before all that, they were talking amongst one another a tad animatedly. Hands flew up in the air every once in a while and one of them seemed to have a habit of using their hands and gestures to get their point across. These gestures weren't sign language, but simply innocent little gestures that helped emphasize the topic at hand, pun only kinda intended.

Claire decided that now was a good time to inspect these guys closer. She noticed the first one was probably the tallest of them all and also the one who gestures with his hands while talking. His cheeks were quite chubby, giving his face a cute baby-like appearance. Eyes a bit hooded and eyebrows raised in a seemingly permanently surprised state. None other than Paul McCartney himself stood by the door of the room!

The second one was only slightly shorter than the previous guy. He seemed very large and imposing, quite intimidating in appearance. His hair was cut in the same way as the rest of them, but it was definitely the lightest in colour out of all. He had small thin lips that made his face seem a bit stern, disaprooving. But what defined his features was an incredibly distinctive pinched nose, one that gave away exactly who this person was. John goddamn Lennon stood alive and well, no bulletwounds, no blood and looking as young as ever.

Claire's eyes moved on to the shortest of the group, who might've been only a tiny fraction taller than herself. His eyes, even from her angle, were distincly a vibrant blue shade and drooped quite a bit, making him look a little sad. But she'd seen enough pictures to tell that his smile was one of the most uplifting things she'd ever seen. And then there was his nose. Now this was obviously the defining feature, often reffered to as a 'great big honker'. When he raised his hand in a small gesture, she could easily see the iconic rings on his fingers glinting in the light of the room. Ringo Starr was just there looking about as adorable as he could.

And lastly she focused on the last guy. Tall and lanky seemed the most appropriate way to describe his physique. But his face was something else. It seemed to have been perfectly sculpted with the cheekbones and all. His brow seemed a bit stern, unfriendly even, which was known to be quite a misleading thing. Claire couldn't help but keep her eyes on the plump looking lips that he had. And when he spoke, she saw the famous 'fangs' that he possesed. Wow, George Harrison, young and healthy and...pointing right at her.

Claire quickly managed to pretend that she was still knocked out, to try and process the situation. She could feel their eyes on her for a little bit. Finally her brain began to actually pay attention to what the guys were saying.

"We don' know who she is! She might be some crazed fan tha' just decided to meet us by pretending to be knocked out! We should just leave and call Mal over!" Claire recognized this as the voice of Paul of all people.

Wasn't he known to be polite and kind and all that? Wasn't John supossed to be skeptical? Maybe she'd misjudged them, but honestly could you blame her? I mean she'd only ever heard second-hand stories about them.

"Oh, come on, Paulie! You don't know that...she could really need our help...and besides, I'm curious to see where this goes," John countered, sounding slightly amused by their predicament.

Paul sighed audibly and Claire decided to open her eyes a tad to see what the situation was. She saw that they all had turned to Paul and weren't looking at her at all. Claire incredibly slowly got out of the bed.

She found that her shoes had been taken off and that her previous dress had riden up a bit from laying in the bed. Her feet hit the carpeted floor and she swayed for a second. The movement had caught the attention of the others and they immediately rushed over to her, catching her. Paul's and Ringo's arms steadied her before sitting her back down on the bed. Claire felt dizzy and out of place.

The two sat at each side of her and Ringo, by habit, rubbed her back comfortingly. John and George kneeled in front of her on the floor, staring at her with interest. Seeing her eyes was startling to them, how bright and magnificently striking they were. Such a rich brown color, only amplified by the rays of sunshine beaming through the curtains and making paths across her face.

Claire put a hand to her throbbing chest, feeling the heavyness and pain, probably from all the water that had previously been in them. She looked at the Beatles sitting everywhere around her.

"Who are ye?" George asked first, breaking the silence.

She tried to speak, but ended up just coughing from how sore her entire breathing sistem was. Paul finally decided to put his hand on her back as well, trying to help ease her pain somehow. He saw that she wasn't faking anything and that she genuinely had taken in a lot of water.

"My..." her voice was croaky and sore, barely audible, "my name is Claire Villers..."

John nodded, "alright, Claire, take it easy now, don't go strainin' yerself."

Paul quickly took the glass of water from the nightstand, where George had previously put it and handed it to Claire, "here, maybe this'll help."

She smiled thankfully at him, making Paul's features light up slightly.

She drank it and Ringo decided it a good time to ask her something more, "what 'appened to ye, love? How'd ye end up in the water?"

"I..." Claire suddenly realised she couldn't quite say what she thought had happened, "I don't quite remember...the last thing I do remember is being out in the rain and then just..nothing..."

The three seemed to find that answer satisfactory, yet John pulled a bit of a grimace at her words.

"Well, where are ye from, Claire?" George asked politely, daring to put a comforting touch on her knee.

"I come from South Shields, but I think I live or, well, used to live in London?" she played up the part of an amnesiac to not get sent to a home for crazy people.

"Do ye remember anything else, anything at all? Like, do ye know who we are?"

"No, well, not much, but yes, I do know who ye are..." Claire spoke in her raspy voice, her throat and lungs burning slightly.

"Oh, great ye're a fan!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

She frowned a tad, "I mean, I remember liking yer music, but I wouldn't say I'm a fan like one of those deluded 'beatlemaniacs' that scream and tear their own hair out at the mere sight of ye..."

The boys cracked a smile at this, feeling that this girl was currently in a bit of a pickle, but still knew what the fans were like.

"Alright, but how old are ye...just so we know..." Ringo asked, blushing at the implications of the question.

"Oh, umm, I'm 21 currently I suppose..." she spoke a bit hesitantly, "wait! I know this is gonna sound a bit strange, but what year is it?"

Paul gave her a real funny look, as did the rest, and responded, "love, it's 1964."

"And the date?"

"5th of March?" George spoke softly, all of them were a bit confused why she would even ask that question.

"Oh...okay...yeah, that's fine..." Claire said, speaking more to herself than any of the others.

"Are ye alright, love?" John asked a bit concerned at the expression on Claire's face.

"Oh, yeah, I just uhhh...have a big chunk of time that's missing from me memory I guess," she hated lying to them, but found it necesary.

"Do ye suppose ye have amnesia from whatever 'appened to ye?" George questioned, his scouse accent strong.

"I don't see any other possiblity..."

The boys nodded along, not having much to add afterwards. They'd decided that she needed more time to rest, obviously Claire was still not feeling awfully great. And so they left her to sleep in the room. George, Paul and Ringo all left, but John stuck around for a bit longer.

He was hesitant to trust her word. Something in the way that she spoke and carried herself made it seem like there was more to her story and that she knew exactly what happened after all. So John decided to stay behind and talk to her about it. John wouldn't have her staying here if he didn't know the full and honest truth of this girl.

Claire noticed his remaining presence and decided to comment on it, "is-is there something you'd like say, John?"

He furrowed his brow and kneaded his lips before speaking in a rather hostile tone, "I'm not as thick as the rest of 'em, ye know...I can tell ye were lying earlier, ye're no amnesiac, ye know exactly what's going on."

Claire was stunned to silence by John's hostility. She couldn't speak a word to save herself. Looking around the room, she realized what was missing from her person. Her purse, she needed her purse right now, it contained her only proof of where she was from, her phone, a charger, earphones and a pack of mints.

"Where is my purse, John? I need me purse, give me my purse, please!" She was desperate with her pleas.

But John decided to ignore her and keep questioning, "tell me who ye really are! I swear, if ye don't tell me, I'll call security and have ye taken away."

"Give me my purse!" Claire demanded, still not giving in.

"Ye're a crazy fan like the rest of 'em, aren't ye! Just here trying to get to us! Tell me now or I'll have security take ye away!" John had steadily raised his voice.

"Give me my purse now, John!" Claire demanded through gritted teeth.

John took the purse from the dresser and tossed it at her frustratedly, "now, tell me."

Claire breathed for a second and then opened her mouth, preparing to speak, but finding it dificult to word her sentence, "John, I...I'm...I mean...ughh!"

She dragged her hands down across her face in frustration. John watched her carefully, waiting for her explanation.

"What? What is it?" he asked, his voice toned down slightly.

"Ye won't believe me even if told ye the truth...if I told ye, you'd definitely send me to a home for crazy people...why do ye think I didn't tell the complete truth earlier?" Claire wouldn't meet his eye and instead kept her gaze on her purse that sat neatly in her lap.

John softly sat down on the bed next to her, shoulder to shoulder and took her hands in his as a form of comfort, "I...I promise I'll believe ye, just please don't lie..."

She looked at their hands and then raised her gaze to his face. It seemed sincere, making Claire willing to actually tell him what she gathered had probably happened. They kept up the eye contact for a while longer.

"John...I think I might've travelled back in time..." Claire squeezed her eyes shut, ready for him to burst out into anger or something.

"Really? Claire, I thought we decided that ye wouldn't lie to me!" John pulled his hands away and stood on his feet.

"I'm not! Ye asked what the truth was and that's the only explanation I have! I don't know why, how or anything else all I know is that it 'appened!"

John franctically ran his hand trough his hair, messing it up from it's previously neat state. He paced around the room in confusion, desperation. I mean, he wanted to believe her, but it was just too outlandish for him to actually consider her words as truth.

"Prove it...prove to me that what ye're saying is true!" John demanded, stopping right in front of her sitting form.

As he stood there, hands on his hips, expectant for a good explanation, Claire suddenly got a good idea. She grabbed her purse and began to dig around it, eventually pulling out, what in John's eyes was just a shiny metallic rectangle.

"What's that?" he asked like a curious school-boy, sitting back down incredibely close beside her.

"This..." she gestured with the thing, "is proof that what I'm saying is the truth."

John continued to stare at the device with massive curiosity. Claire gently placed the thing in John's palm. He could feel it's cool and smooth surface against his skin. Turning it over in his hands, John could feel the weight and everything else. The thing was making him increasingly curious.

"How is this...thing supposed to prove that ye're from the future?" he asked her silently, completely stunned.

Claire smiled, "press the button right there."

John did as told and the screen before him lit up, showing a picture of her and Teddy on New Years.

His eyes widened in disbelief, the phone screen's light reflecting into them, making his eyes shine with wonder like a little boy's would in a toy shop. John's expression began to drop and soon it fell into a distressed frown. Very suddenly, startling Claire, he sprang up from his seat and stomped to the door. John ran out of the room in a rush, leaving the door wide open.

Claire sat there completely shocked and scared of what was going to happen now. She clutched her head in her hands, the phone falling down into her lap. Her breath became laboured and Claire was full on freaking out.

As she did this, George had decided to come by and check on her, both to see if she was alright and if she was even still there at all. The sight that he found made a frown appear on his face. The poor confused girl was having a break down and George, bless his kind heart, decided to help any way he could.

George walked over and sat next to her on the fluffy bed, " 'ello, luv, are ye alright?"

Claire quickly shifted her thighs to hide the phone and looked up at him with wet tear-stained cheeks. George's heart broke at the sight of her. He put an arm arround her in comfort and rubbed her upper arm.

"What 'appened?" his scouse was always the strongest of them all and something about hearing him speak so softly to her made her even more emotional.

As George held her, the thoughts struck her hard. This was George goddamn Harrison holding her in his arms and trying his best to make her feel less upset. The guy didn't even know her or what was bothering her, but he still decided to come to her aid when she was obviously not doing well. The two were complete strangers, Claire was just a girl they had found a few hours previous passed out on a beach. Her heart ached at the wonderful nature of one George Harrison and how he didn't deserve a single bad thing ever happening to him.

A few more tears escaped her eyes and George pulled slightly away from her just to get a good look at her. He smiled at her with that fanged grin, Claire's heart soaring with a brilliant feeling.

"Are ye feelin' any better, luv?" George questioned softly.

"Yes, thanks a bunch George..." Claire looked away from his face, feeling a tad embarrassed at her tears.

But he didn't seem to mind at all, instead he just continued to hold what could only be seen as a fond smile, "would ye like some tea, Claire? I think Paul just boiled some in the kettle..."

The girl nodded, with a small grin and an accompanying pink blush gracing her features. George found her to be absolutely adorable in her ways. He nodded and exited the room to retrieve the tea.

Moments later he returned with two steaming cups in his hands. He seemed to be struggling a little bit and Claire giggled at his concentrated face which was literally just him poking his tongue out on one side of his mouth. George placed them down on the nightstand and playfully glared at her giggling.

"Ye think me struggle is funny, aye?" he plopped down beside her and poked right under her ribs making Claire errupt into a laugh.

George, having found a ticklish spot, continued to poke at her, much to her protest. She laughed and George even joined in, finding this as a good little moment that he'd be able to recall for some time as a highlight of his usually crowded life.

Soon he stopped and the two got to drinking their tea. The room was comfortably quiet for the time being. But George was there to hear her out on what had made her so upset. However, Claire didn't seem very keen on talking about it. Instead she focused on other questions, such as where in the world she was.

"Well, ye're still in England if that's what ye're wonderin' about..." George explained, setting his empty cup down on the saucer.

"Okay, but where exactly. Are we in London or somewhere else?"

He waved his hand dismissively, "no, no don't worry we're still in London too."

Claire nodded and placed her cup down too, "who's room is this even?"

"Uhhh, it's John's actually..." George rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at her.

"Oh."

"When we found ye on the beach we were all very worried. I's not every day ye find a pretty bird lying knocked out on a beach," he said with a small, incredulous laugh at the end.

Claire, however, was still a bit stuck on the 'pretty bird' part of his sentence. It was honestly incredibly flattering being called pretty by none other than George Harrison. He must see about a hundred prettier girls ever day of his life.

"We knew we couldn't just leave ye there, so we took ye back to the hotel since we were staying not far away. At first we couldn't even decide where to put ye. Then, after a lot of arguin' we decided to just put ye in John's room since 'e was so amused by takin' ye in," George explained the silly situation that the boys had been in.

George had put an arm around Claire as he spoke and now he held her in a sort of side-hug. He held her there for a while longer until the though of letting her rest struck him.

"I think I'll be goin' now. Take a rest, luv, ye've had a long day. Ye can sleep on John's bed 'e won't mind," George's kind smile and comforting words were the last thing she saw before he shut the door on her.

When he was gone, Claire took her phone back in her hands and inspected it. Not a single thing wrong with it besides what had already been there. You'd think that after the whole thing she went through, her phone wouldn't even be working or, at the very least, be quite banged up. But no, nothing was wrong and Claire even saw that she had perfect service in 1964! Wifi was also working as if there was a router right next door.

Claire laughed incredulosly at the propsect of this. The door then began to open again and she quickly tried to hide the device.

"I's just me, no need to hide the thing," the voice of John Lennon floated into the room along with the man himself.

John came over and sat down in front of her. He took a look at the two empty cups on the nightstand with a questioning eye.

Claire noticed his look and got to explaining, "George brought me some tea after ye ran off."

He frowned at that, god knows why,and then spoke, "I'm sorry about tha'. T'was stupid to just run off like that. I just didn't know how't react y'know?"

Claire nodded and smiled gently at him. John plastered on a smile as well. He shifted around in his seat for a bit and then finally spoke.

"Could I see tha' thingie again?"

"Thingie?"

"Well tha' shiny thing ye put in me hand earlier."

"Oh..." Claire reached behind herself and took it back out, setting it in John's hand, "press the button in the middle."

John did as told and the screen lit up just as it had done a little ways back. It still showed the picture of Claire and a guy holding eachother at some party. He noticed this time around that the screen also showed the time perfectly and some other things that didn't make much sense to him.

"What?" John's interest was met as he stared at the screen, intrigued by it's contents, "is this some futuristic picture frame or somethin'? And who's the lad next to ye?"

"That's Teddy my very extremely recent ex-boyfriend. And no it's not a picture frame, those are still the same in the future. This is a phone, my phone to be exact."

John stared at her, his mouth agape, "now I know ye weren't pullin' me leg."

"And it's not just a phone. It's also a camera, photo album, TV and a lot more..." she took the device from him and swiped across the screen, unlocking it and begining to show him all the other functions, "see, I can go to this 'google' thing and type in anything at all and it'll find the information for me. For example, if I type in, oh I don't know, John Lennon, it'll show pictures and information about you."

He watched with wide eyes as she did so, his mind already blown from what he was seeing. John watched as she tapped on a picture of him, but he could see some pictures that, from a first glance, would not be obvious that it was him. He was sure that the bearded, glasses wearing man must've been him some time later on in his life. As Claire was about to go and read some information about him, she quickly decided against it and exited the whole thing all together. She seemed scared about him learning something about himself.

"How about we don't actually read into your information. I mean, both of us already know enough, don't we? Let's just do something else like uhhh...how about we take a picture!" Claire smiled nervously at him.

John shook off the thoughts of what she had not wanted him to see and decided to go along with whatever she was showing him at all. Claire opened the camera and held it at a length. The two made a few silly and adorable pictures together.

John began to wonder, "hey, ummm, Claire? Can ye listen to music on tha' thing?"

She nodded and understood that he wanted to hear something from her time. Claire decided that it couldn't be too much harm if she showed him a few songs.

"What is music like in the future?"

"A bit shit, I guess, but that's what every generation says about the popular, mainstream music of their day. A lot of music has become mainly electronic, y'know? Not many musicians use real instruments anymore, but it's not the worst thing ever, some electronic music sounds fine. I suppose not much has changed at all if you really look at it. People make music with what's available to them and then improve upon it whenever they can..." Claire became thoughtful as John hung onto every last word.

His brain was going into overdrive at the moment with the quantity of information that he was receiving. And then, as if to make it even more overwhelming, Claire actually put on a song. John didn't even think it possible to play music from such a tiny thing. He was more used to vinyls and record players not palm-sized phones.

_"Look at the stars_  
_Look how they shine for you_  
_And everything you do_  
_Yeah they were all yellow_

_I came along_  
_I wrote a song for you_  
_And all the things you do_  
_And it was called "Yellow""_ the song played from the phone's speaker.

John listened intently to the whole thing, his ears never having heard anything like it. It was extremely fascinating to listen to music from the future, to hear what people would write.

Claire then spoke as she searched for another song, "actually Paul just put out a new album as well and it's just amazing."

John smiled as he watched Claire's eyes light up as she spoke, he definitely found her an interesting bird. But what did she mean by 'Paul put out an album'? Why only Paul? Had they not put one out together? What about John, George and Ringo? Were they not making music together anymore? Were they even friends? And most importantly were they all even still alive? Obviously Paul was, but what about the rest?

He listened to the long, melancholic piano instrumental begining, finding it very beautiful sounding. Definitely something Paul would write. And then some more instruments kicked in.

"Actually the lone piano at the begining is a tad reminiscent of what ye played on some demo later on. I guess, Paul's doin' it purposefully or just to kick us all in the feelings..." Claire spoke a bit absentmindedly as she listened with him. And then Paul began to actually sing.

_"I got crows at my window, dogs at my door_  
_I don't think I can take any more_  
_What am I doing wrong? I don't know_  
_My brother told me, "Life's not a pain"_  
_That was right when it started to rain_  
_Where am I going wrong? I don't know_

_But it's alright, sleep tight_  
_I will take the strain_  
_You're fine, love of mine_  
_You will feel no pain..."_ the song played on 'til the end, a sad expression pulling on both John's and Claire's faces.

"Why does 'e sound so...sad?" John asked as the last chord played out.

"I don' know, John, in my time he's been through a lot y'know? He's old, he's not the Paul you know now anymore."

"Wait, Macca's how old? Like seventy six right?"

Claire nodded and John couldn't help but want to listen again. So he requested she play it again. It was surreal for him to listen to his best friend sing all alone and he even sounded so aged that it made John feel this weird kind of feeling.

"I think that's enough music for today..." John suggested, not feeling up for more of that kind of thing.

Claire put the phone away and faced John, "hey, uhmm, John, I know that it really isn't your concern, but where do I stay?"

John looked at her like she was dumb, he laughed, "what do ye mean? Ye're stayin' with me an' the boys, ye daft bird!"

Claire snapped her head up to look properly at John, "ye don't really mean that..."

"Love, 'course I do. Do ye really think I'll be lettin' ye roam the streets after all tha' ye told me?" John found it strange that she could even consider him kicking her out after learning that she actually doesn't have anywhere at all to go.

"But what about Brian and the boys? Won't they be interested why ye're stringing me along after just 'aving met me not even a day ago?" Claire questioned, craning her neck to the side, "and besides, I don't 'ave anything here. I don't 'ave any clothes or any belongings at all besides what was in me purse..."

"Love, I'm a Beatle. I think I can take care of ye until ye can get back to yer own time," John spoke sincerely from the heart.

"People really were wrong about ye, John Lennon. Ye aren't as horrible an asshole as everyone makes ye out to be..." Claire smiled teasingly.

John laughed a tad and then responded mock-offendedly, "people think I'm a wanker in the future?!"

Claire just laughed it off, John soon joining in on the fun. After their laughing session, John suggested they go and talk to Brian and the others about her staying with John.

"Should I be scared?" Claire asked a bit jokingly.

He took her hand and smiled at the girl, "no, love, I don't think so. The others already liked ye, especially George, and Brian has a stick up his ass, but he'll warm up to ye after a while."

She nodded and John let go of her hand. They stepped out of the door and headed for the living area where everyone was gathered. Brian was already going off about how the show starts in a bit and none of them are getting ready at all.

"You boys should be getting ready, but I come and find you frolicking on the beach like a bunch of idiots!" Brian was obviously irritated at the boys' carelesness.

John and Claire walked up to the group of people, Claire awkwardly standing next to John and waiting for this to be over. The others took notice of the pair having emerged from John's room and standing right behind Brian. George smiled sweetly at Claire, Ringo and Paul giving her a small wave, to which she responded with a smile and a wave of her own.

Brian then turned around and came face to face with the two, he eyed Claire rather thoroughly, "John who've you brought over now?"

He sounded more exasperated than genuinely curious at who Claire even was. She guessed that John had been known to bring girls over for a bit and Brian didn't seem to find any patience for it.

"Brian, I'd like ye to meet Claire. Me an' the lads found 'er while we were out an' about. Ye see, she's in a bit of a pickle, has amnesia, this one. Can't remember a thing before she was knocked out..." John spoke very confidently, not showing a single sign that he was lying about Claire's condition.

Brian sighed and shook Claire's hand quickly out of politeness. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stared daggers at John.

"And, John, why is this any of our concern? Shouldn't we be getting her to the police or something? And how do you even know that she isn't some crazy fan only pretending to have amnesia?" Brian was obviously very skeptical of her.

Claire shrunk where she stood and John wrapped and arm around her to keep her from being intimidated by Brian, "listen, mate, she's lost an' confused an' we found her. It's our responsibility to take care of 'er until she regains her memory or finds 'er way 'ome."

John was stern and serious with his words. He didn't want to come off as unsure. He needed to make sure that Claire can stay with them. After all she was a time traveler from the future. She has nothing here, the only people she can truly trust being The Beatles. John wanted this girl to stay, he found himself very interested in her, she was like a mystery that he would love nothing but to unravel.

Ringo and George got up from the couch and took Claire by the hand, leading her away from the room and into the kitchen. As they sat down by the table, she could vaguely hear John raising his voice with Brian as they argued on whether or not she stays. Ringo and George were trying their best to keep her attention away from the living room.

"C'mon, Claire, why don' ye tell us about yerself?" George asked as the three sat down by the table, "well, what ye can remember anyways..."

She thought for a little, "there's not much to tell really..."

Ringo spoke up, "there 'as to be somethin'..."

"Yer fingertips are calloused, do ye play guitar?" George added.

Claire blushed shyly, having a beatle and one of the greatest guitarists ever ask you if you play guitar was a tad intimidating, "yeah, I do...umm I remember 'aving a white 'Strat' back home...wherever that is...my fingers are itchin' to play it again."

She hadn't even noticed that Paul had slipped into the kitchen as well while she spoke. He'd heard her speak of her guitar and couldn't help himself, having to ask.

"Why don' ye play somethin' for us, luv? I bet ye're real good on guitar..." Paul smiled genuinely at her.

Claire blushed some more at his words, "well I don' really 'ave a guitar on hand, do I?"

George sprung up, "I'll go get mine then!"

"No, it's not..." she trailed off as he had already bolted out of the kitchen.

Claire sighed as Paul and Ringo chuckled at George's eagerness to hear her play. They were curious as well. Could she really play and if so, how well?

George came running back in, carrying an acoustic guitar. As he opened and closed the door, the sounds of John and Brian arguing could be heard, making Claire frown. But George's excitement was enough to put a smile back on her face. He handed her the guitar and sat back with Paul and Ringo, ready to hear her play.

Claire got herself situated with the instrument, very much in awe that she was currently holding one of George Harrison's many famous guitars. She began to softly strum a simple melody that she didn't realize, until a few key chords in, was actually a later Beatles song. Claire quickly ceased her playing and began on something that was actually already written. Her fingers naturally found themselves playing the tune of 'She loves you'.

The boys immediately recognized it and began to sing along, Ringo tapping his hands on the table as well. It turned into a little sing along. Claire honestly couldn't believe her luck right now, just a day ago she was back home, working at the diner and playing at random pubs, but now she was in a hotel room with The Beatles, playing and singing along with them. This was any musician's dream.

As they sang and had a blast, John and Brian entered the kitchen as well. Apparently they'd heard the noise and wanted to see what was going on. It had interrupted their arguing. Now they stood watching the three gleefuly singing one of their songs and Claire in the middle, playing guitar.

John smiled a tad smugly at Brian, knowing that the other beatles would want to keep her around as well and Brian would be no match for the four of them. Brian sighed and waited for them to finish up.

Just as Claire was done, Brian spoke up, looking directly at the girl, "alright you can stay, but you will have to do something in return. I can't have you just stringing along."

Claire gave the guitar back to George, stood up and walked over to Brian, "I would gladly help around, Mr. Epstein."

He nodded, the tiniest smile lifting the corner of his mouth. The man told the boys to get ready for their show tonight or else they'd miss it. And then he was gone, just like that.

"Hey, love, so we gotta go tonight and sadly ye can't come, but ye can stay here and take a shower maybe," John suggested, turning to Claire.

Claire chuckled, "do I really smell that bad, Lennon?"

John laughed with her, "not at all, ye just look all rumpled and a tad sandy."

"Ta," Claire said a bit flatly, much to the guys' amusement.

The others went off to get ready, leaving her all alone on the couch. Claire spotted a TV sitting nearby and at first she looked for a remote. But then she remembered that they didn't yet have those and had to change channels manually on the set itself. She moved on over to it and turned it on, somehow finding the right button after a bit. Claire tried to find another channel by pressing the buttons and, by the time that Paul came out of his room looking all dressed up and nice, Claire had figured out how to operate a 1960's TV set.

"I see ye mastered the telly," Paul sounded very entertained and chirpy.

Claire looked at him with a sheepish smile, "yeah, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of seeing one quite like this..."

Paul chuckled and sat beside her on the couch, watching whatever she'd found interesting enough. Claire noted that early television was quite boring and, quite honestly, strange.

Suddenly Paul spoke, looking rather timid, "if ye want ye can watch us play tonight. On the telly, of course, I heard they'd be showing it live on some channel..."

"I'll make sure to look for ye guys," she smiled at the man.

Claire found that just looking at him was surreal. He was still so young, yet he always managed to retain the chirpy and friendly attitude throughout his life.

"Uhmm, Paul, could I borrow some clean clothes from ye? All I 'ave are these dirty ones that I 'ave on..." Claire asked a bit shyly.

Paul smiled and put a hand on her knee, "Of course ye can, love! C'mon let's go see what I 'ave for ye."

The two set out for Paul's room which they found to be two doors down from John, right past Ringo. Paul and Claire stepped in, Paul immediately going to his clothes to find something clean she could wear.

"Here," he passed her a dress shirt, "I don't have any trousers ye could wear. Mine are all too big for ye. I suppose ye could go ask Ringo for some trousers, he's smaller in size."

Claire chuckled a bit and soon Paul joined her. His laugh faded, but she continued to giggle for a second longer. Paul admired her smile for the remaining time, finding her incredibly wonderful.

"I'll go see if Ringo 'as anything for me..." Claire excused herself and left Paul's room.

She went next door to Ringo and gently knocked on his door. He opened it smiling ear to ear. Ringo'd already guessed who it might've been at the door. None of the others, including Brian, never knocked and just barged right in.

" 'ello, luv, what brings ye?" Ringo opened the door a bit wider and let her in.

"I needed some clean clothes because of well..." she gestures to herself in the dress she'd been wearing to the date with Teddy, "and I got a shirt from Paul, but he didn't 'ave any trousers that would fit me so here I am..."

Ringo smiled gently, "I'll look for somethin', aye love?"

Claire sat on his bed as he dug around his things for a bit, "Ringo, do ye want me to call ye Ringo or somethin' else?"

"I'd like a nickname, sure..." he continued to look around.

"Then how about..." Claire thought for a second, eventually coming up empty handed, "no, I can't think of anythin' good enough."

Ringo chuckled and then triumphantly held his hand up, "aha! Found ye somethin'. They're me most comfy trousers and I'd like 'em back later..."

Claire giggled and accepted them, "ta, Rings, ye're a lifesaver!"

Ringo smiled and waved her off, "ye goin' to take a shower later?"

"That was the plan, yes..."

They exited his room, Claire holding the clothes, and walked back into the living room. The rest of the guys were already gathered there, George making a small struggle of getting his tie just right. It always seemed just too crooked or tight or loose or this or that. Claire couldn't stand watching him struggle and walked over, helping him tie it precisely the way he needed and wanted it. George smiled in appreciation of her help.

Brian came into the room and took the boys away, all of them making their way to a car downstairs. He had made sure to lock the doors from the outside, still thinking Claire would end up stealing a bunch of their things and making a run for it. She didn't say anything about it, knowing to just let Brian be.

While they were gone, Claire went and showered throroughly. Thankfully she found shampoo and conditioner and shower gel all already there at her convenience. She let the warm water cleanse her skin, mind wandering to what exactly had happened in the past few hours. It was wild, but she'd learn to live with it, hopefully.

Claire got out of the shower and took a good look at herself in the mirror. Thank god she'd had the mind to wear water proof make-up on her date. Her date. Teddy. How could he do that to her? How could he just heartlessly string her along for months, making her believe in the lie that he loved her and only her? Couldn't he have just broken it off with Claire when he began to fall for the other girl?

She hated thinking of this and so she purposefully shifted her thoughts to something more trivial, like how she would be scouring each TV channel for the Beatles' concert. Finally having dried herself off and put on the borrowed clothes, Claire left the steaming bathroom.

Skipping over to the TV set, she flicked it on and began to look for any sign that the Beatles would be playing. After about five channels she found the right one and watched intently, waiting for the boys to come on stage and sing their little hearts out. The announcer stood there, in front of the camera, and began to speak. He told of a famous liverpudlian band by the name 'The Beatles' and that they'd be performing their hit songs.

The fab four bounded on stage like the happy bunch they were. These were still the times when they enjoyed concerts and being together. Claire knew what would follow in the coming years and decided to enjoy the early Beatle days.

They sang as wonderfully as ever and Claire watched every second of it. From John's bowed legs to Ringo's head shaking and constant smiling by his drums. And just like that, a good twenty minutes later, they bowed to the crowd and left the stage, home-bound. Claire couldn't wait to congratulate them on their spectacular performance.

The five returned to the hotel room and found Claire curled up on the couch, the TV still on. Her dirty and rumpled look was replaced by a clean and comfy looking one. She wore Paul's shirt and Ringo's trousers, much to the liking of Ringo and Paul, but to John and George's confusion.

John sighed softly at the sight of her and went to pick her body up. He carried her off to his room and laid her in the bed. Tucking her in and making sure she was warm, John was about to leave the room and sleep on the couch. He was stopped by Claire tugging on his arm.

"John, don't go..." she mumbled breathily.

John smiled warmly at the girl and took off his suit, putting on pajamas, "alright, love."

He slipped in next to her, not daring to touch her on his own accord. John laid stiffly at one side of the hotel bed. But when he felt Claire shift and put an arm around him and her head on his chest, John felt his muscles relax and warmth invade every crevice of his body.


	3. Help Me To Help Myself

A warm, comfortable feeling was the first thing that Claire registered in her head. She could feel the heavyness of the covers weighing on her body. The warmth of the sheets made her feel safe and secure.

The second thing she registered was the fact that something about her very existance felt off, a little weird, like she didn't belong at all. And that was when she forced her heavy eyelids open, only to be met with a familiarly blank ceiling. It was like deja vu for Claire. She stared into the endless whiteness of the ceiling, her mind absent at the moment.

Was all that happened yesterday real? Or was it just a vivid fever dream of her's? And if it was real, didn't she fall asleep with John? Where was he?

The door to the room opened, drawing her attention away from the ceiling and instead to it. John sauntered into the room in his own Lennon way. He made his way over to Claire, smiling at her before he spoke.

"Good mornin', love! How'd ye sleep? Bet ye had a mighty nice pillow, aye?" he winked at her with a smug grin overtaking his features.

Claire blushed and threw a pillow at the man, "well, 'e certainly 'as nicer when 'e was asleep!"

John simply laughed at the girl, finding her very amusing, "well ye better get yer arse up, miss Claire, before me an' the lads do it for ye."

Claire sighed and began to get up from the increasingly comfortable bed, "why do I even 'ave to get up so early?"

"I already talked to the lads, we're takin' ye out to buy some clothes today..." John shuffled around the room, grabbing a few things and such.

"Uhmm, wow, thank ye, John...that's very kind of ye..." Claire blushed timidly, having to be taken care of was not something she liked.

John waved her off and passed her the clothes that she came in, somehow, possibly Brian's doing, the dress had been cleaned. Claire took the dress and left for the bathroom to get herself to look at least a bit more presentable. What she had on hand would have to suffice for now.

She showered and combed through her hair, putting on the dress as well. When she came out, she didn't see John anywhere and sighed. Quickly she found her heeled shoes lying next to the bed and put them on. She grabbed her purse and looked through it's contents, seeing that everything was still in it's place. As she eyed the shiny phone, Claire knew she'd have to do something about it. There was no way that she could leave it out there for anyone to find. It ws already stupid of her to have told John about the truth, but she found it somehow necesary if she was gonna stay.

Claire exited the room and went out to find the rest of the boys. Entering the living area, she did find Paul and Ringo on the couch watching morning TV. Brian seemed to be more relaxed than usual as well, seeing as he was sitting in a comfy looking chair and watching the TV as well. When Claire looked further, she noted that John was in the kitchen preparing food and that George was busy eating his own brekfast.

Everyone, having noticed her emerging from the room, greeted Claire in a friendly manner. She was slightly surprised by Brian's lack of hostility, but she wrote it off as just being a sideffect of finally relaxing for more than a split second. Claire said her greeting in return and walked to where John stood in the kitchen. Just as she made it up to him, he turned to her and handed her the brekfast. All he did was smile cheekily as the girl walked to the table and sat with George.

"Guufmowfim, Hlaih!" George spoke with a large smile and cheeks stuffed with food.

John placed his own plate next to the two and spoke, "now, son, use yer big boy words."

George shot him a small glare and Claire chuckled lightly as John forked his food with a cheeky smile.

Claire turned to George anyway, "goodmornin' to ye too, George!"

He smiled, pleased with that and continued to eat his food as did the rest. Brekafast drew to a quick end and in no time at all, the five of them were stuffing into a car and driving off to the shops.

Claire quickly realized that these guys had decided to go all out on her. It was obvious from a single look that these shops were high-end. Shs got worried for the costs of the clothes and other products as Claire didn't wish to be a burden that just costs money and time to take care of.

"Guys, aren't there any better shops anywhere...I mean these seem very expensive and I..." Claire timidly tried to reason with the boys.

John seemed taken aback for a second, "nonsense, love! Ye're our guest and ye deserve the best of the best!"

"But, John..." Claire sighed only to be shushed by the man.

"Besides, Claire, ye'll be travelin' with The Beatles...can't 'ave ye wearin' any ol' rags or the press will 'ave a bird," George laughed, explaining their reasoning.

Honestly the four of them had already had a talk this morning about spliting the pay between the four of them. At first they did think to just take her to a simple shop, but then Paul had the bright idea of buying her really nice things since her situation wasn't exactly ideal. Brian had even supported this, saying that a girl wearing cheap rags should not be seen around the beatles. He said it would give off a bad impression of the boys, that they hung out with cheap girls. The boys, of course, had a few things to say to this, but eventually agreed that they'd be taking her to the pricier shops around the city.

"Yea' imagine that, luv, 'mysterious girl seen shopping for cheap rags with the Beatles..." Ringo did his best to imitate a newsreporter.

The group laughed and Claire decided to just give into them, knowing they won't give up until she'd have proper stylish clothes.

They entered the shop and, as a group of five cluttered together, they began to look around. The shops' older assistant looked at them with an annoyed look. Apparently she didn't enjoy the fact that five people were struggling through the aisles all at the same time and almost knocking things over. But the younger shop assistant kept fixing herself, striking poses and making faces at the Beatles in what could only be described as an attempt at flirting.

Quite honestly the others didn't even notice her or more like they didn't particularly care to pay attention to her. Paul kept looking through the clothing racks and picking out things, handing them to Claire, saying that they'd look good on her. He would hand the clothes on to John, who'd hand them to George who'd then hand them to Ringo. Eventually poor Ringo was left with a boulder of clothes in his arms. He whined at the weight of them, drawing the attention of Claire. Now that she saw the man struggling with the clothes, she decided to just head off to the dressing rooms.

John and Paul wandered off to a far corner of the shop and George went to check out the stuff near the counter. This left Claire trying on the many articles of clothing and Ringo helping her decide what did and didn't look good.

Now, if you looked over at where Paul and John were you'd see a very strange sight. John had currently taken a dress and put it up against himself, turning to Paul with a seductive look and asking him a question.

"Oh, Paulie darling, ye think this dress makes me look fat? Am I pretty?" John batted his eyelases and spoke in a posh, high-pitched voice.

Paul tried to say something in retaliation, but ended up not being able to say a single thing due to his unending hysterical laughter. John watched proudly as tears sprung up in Paul's eyes. He had always loved making Paul laugh or smile since the man had such a wonderful smile.

Meanwhile, the younger shop assistant was pretending to work near where George was stood eyeing a jade green silk dress. The girl would bend down once in a while, sticking her ass up provocatively to try and get George's attention. She was getting quite frustrated at how all of George's attention seemed to be on the dress. But the assistant kept at it as insistantly as before.

Claire had just finished putting on the first outfit and came out to give Ringo a look. The man was sat in a large comfy chair his feet propped up on the small table as he watched her exit the dressing room clad in a burgundy button-up skirt and creamy white jumper with puffy sleeves. The drummer's eyes widened at how pretty she looked.

"Well...how does it look?" Claire asked, spinning around to give him a full look.

Ringo held up his thumbs and smiled his brightest smile, "it looks smashing, luv!"

Claire grinned in return and went back in to try on another outfit. This went on for four more outfits, Claire showing off and Ringo showering her with smiles and compliments. Afterwards the two went back to the clothing racks and looked through more things.

Claire walked through the aisles, Ringo trailing behind her almost like an obedient puppy. They noted Paul and John messing around and annoying the older shop assistant, and George browsing for whatever as a girl desperately tried getting his attention.

The two returned to try on the outfits, soon Claire was showing off another one, "so?"

Claire spun around and made poses in front of the mirror where Ringo sat. He watched her with a fond smile, and he certainly found her quite great.

The girl noticed him looking and turned back towards Ringo, "ye know, I think I 'ave a nickname for ye."

Ringo raised a curious eyebrow, wordlessly asking her to continue.

"Ye've been sticking with me all through the day like a little duckling to it's mother. I think, if ye don't object, I could call you Duckie..." Claire grinned at Ringo.

The man laughed and nodded his head, "sounds gear! I guess I'll call ye birdie then because of yer pretty voice."

Claire vigorously nodded her head, "well, Duckie, if ye're sayin' I have a pretty voice, then I gotta say that yer's is even more wonderful."

Ringo smiled a tad timidly, a tiny pink blush etching on his cheeks, "no, no me voice is nowhere near 'good', I mean the boys don' even let me sing usually..."

"Rings, that's so not true! I've always enjoyed listenin' to ye sing, it's different from what the other lads sound like, deeper in tone I'd say..." Claire reasured him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder and offering him a sweet smile.

The man seemed to accept what she'd said. For a good minute they stayed in the same place, simply smiling sweetly yet not speaking a word.

" 'ey, luv?" George had just came 'round the corner holding the green dress from earlier, a pair of shoes and something else, "I saw these and thought they'd look nice on ye..."

He had startled Ringo and Claire, making them jump. George eyed the pair weirdly, but shrugged it off in the end. The dress laid gently in his hands, silky soft against his calloused fingers.

"Oh, George, it's beautiful!" Claire exclaimed as she took the dress from George and scurried off to put it on.

While she was busy doing that, Paul and John had finally rejoined the rest of the group. They stood outside, waiting on Claire. Ringo still sat in his chair, quite comfortable with his arrangement. Well, until John decided to plop down on top of him.

"Oi! Lennon, what the fook mate?!" Ringo called out from underneath him.

The others mostly laughed and John didn't move from his place. George had finally put the pair of shoes down and was now only holding a piece of mysterious clothing.

"Wha's tha' ye got there, Geo?" Paul asked, refferring to what George was holding.

The guy's face errupted in a vibrant blush and he tried to sputter out a cohesive response, "well, I uhhh, y'know...just uhmmm uuuhhh..."

"Well get on with it, son!" John said to George as he snatched the clothing away from his hands.

John unfurled it, shifting around where he sat, making Ringo groan in pain from the pressure of having John Lennon perched on him. George could still not form an actual sentence, leaving him to watch as John stared at what he held in his hands.

"...this is certainly unexpected," John commented.

Paul gave George a weird sideways glance, "is this for Claire or for you, George?"

"It's for Claire, ye sod! Why would I get meself anything of tha' sort?!" George defended himself.

"Ye think ye got her size right?" Ringo inquired in a wheezy breath, " 'ave ye been lookin' at her like tha' all day, Georgie?"

John's entire body trembled with laughter, George only feeling more and more embarrassed by the second. Then, to make matters worse, Claire finally exited the room, wearing the dress. The lads' eyes were drawn to her immediately, watching the exquisite way the green silk hugged her body as if it had been poured onto her body like paint. She looked splendid in it and the Beatles decided then and there that they'd be buying that dress for Claire no matter what.

"Wha's with all the ruckus out 'ere, ey?" she asked, having heard most of what they spoke about.

John grinned like the Cheshire cat and hopped off of Ringo, making his way towards Claire, "George got ye somethin' else to try on. Maybe ye could go and model it for us."

He had put the article of clothing in her hands and watched ammusedly as she took a good look at what it was.

'Oh dear lord' she thought, 'what is this thing?'

Upon inspection, Claire noted that it was a lacy midnight blue material. It seemed very light and not like it could cover much. This seemed like some sort of lingerie. Claire gave George a strange look, him only blushing and feeling more embarrassed.

"I swear, I just thought ye would need some knickers and stuff, so I found these..." it was awfully awakward in the dressing room.

The others were finding it a struggle to not laugh at George's expense.

The later man glared at his friends' laughter, he was already embarrassed and regretted ever having taken the thing with him in the first place. He should've just left it where he found it, but for some reason his mind had thought the idea would be a good one at the moment.

Claire raised an eyebrow at John, "if I even decide to try this on, Johnny, then ye shouldn' get yer hopes up about havin' me model it for ye."

John's smile dropped for that little second and then he hung it up on his lips yet again. He wasn't about to let that remark get to him.

"And, George?"

The man in question shyly raised his head to look at her, "hmmm?"

A cheeky smile tugged at Claire's lips, "ye got the wrong size..."

"Oh..." he breathed, not quite having processed what she said, "oh!"

George blushed even brighter and looked away from her. John clapped the lad on his back, laughing his head off. After a few minutes of John cackling about whatever he could find funny or entertaining enough, Claire had come back out of the booth, wearing her clothes from before.

"Alrigh', Len, that's enough, ey? Let's go pay fer Claire's clothes and get back to the hotel..." Paul suggested, taking a stack of the clothes that she'd chosen.

The group of them walked to the counter at the front and all four beatles emptied their arms of clothes. The attendant rung all of them up and asked for the younger assistant to pack them up. As the girl was doing this, she gave Claire a strange kind of look, indicating that she wasn't very fond of whoever Claire was. Honestly Claire couldn't care less about the girl.

"Will that be all?" The older shop assistant asked once she was done with ringing up the clothes and other things.

Suddenly George came running over, carrying the green dress and the 'lingerie' he'd picked out, "no, these two as well!"

"George, what?" Claire asked, quite confused by why he would want her to own such unnecesary things.

"Well, love, ye looked positively smashing in tha' dress and this, well..." he gestured to the other garment, "I would like teh imagine it would also look quite good on ye..."

The man obviously flustered again, John decided to make it worse again, "well, don't go imagin' too much, son, or ye'll end up wanking it up in yer room!"

John's voice could obviously be placed as teasing, but there was that subtle undertone of something much less innocent, not that the others much noticed. The younger shop assistant, however, seemed to be fuming where she stood and you could almost see the steam coming from her head.

The boys ended up paying for the clothes as the lady behind the counter seemed almost too glad that they would finally be leaving. They each took a bag of things, seeing as there was a lot of stuff and a single bag could only hold so much. It had been the younger girl that handed them their bags. She did it very gently with the boys, purposefully brushing against their hands, making suggestive faces and winking even. When she finally handed Claire the last bag, the girl shoved it harshly into her chest and stormed off in a huff immediately thereafter.

Claire exchanged a look with the Beatles, trying to see if they saw what she did. Apparently they did as they shrugged and the five of them burst into laughter at the girl's silliness.

They exited the shop, having forgotten all about what could happen if they weren't careful. Their disguises long forgotten and their chaufer nowhere to be seen, the boys heard the sudden shrieks of several girls. What else was there left except to run as fast as their legs could carry them. Luckily the boys had exceptionally long legs that carried them forwards in large strides across the pavement. Claire had, thankfully, been gifted with long legs as well. Of course they were not as long as the boys' and Claire had the faint struggle of keeping up.

Just as they were in the process of crossing a street, Claire tripped over the curb of the pavement. She fell forward and was sprawled out on the pavement. A pain shot up in her knees and ankle, the hysterical girls kept nearing her at the speed of a cheetah.

And suddenly she had been swept up into someone's arms as they ran to the hotel. Claire clung to who she, upon closer inspection, noticed to actually be Paul. He held tightly onto her as he ran whilst holding her bridal style. The girl hid her embarrassed burning red face in Paul's chest, burying her nose and inhaling the scent of his shirt. This had actually made the man almost drop her as he had gotten weak in the knees just by that little action. But thankfully the screams and patter of what sounded like a hundred feet was enough to motivate Paul to keep going.

Finally the five arrived at their hotel and ran inside. The crazed fans would not be let in, but they continued to run upstairs to their appartments. When they had closed the doors behind themselves, did they finally take a breather and calm down. Paul carried Claire over to the loveseat and set her down.

"Ye okay, luv?" He asked her, setting down the clothing bags.

"Oh, I'll be quite fine, thank you, Paul!" she smiled at him in grattitude.

Paul returned the gesture and John just had to say something, "oh, Paulie! Yer me saviour, me prince charming, me hero!"

The older man called out in an annoyingly high-pitched voice. He then scoffed and rolled his eyes, making Claire quite uncomfortable. She'd forgotten that John was always said to be prone to mood swings without a single explanation.

"Oh, sod off, ye git. Claire could've gotten hurt or trampled by them girls!" Paul defended as he crossed his arms.

Ringo sat next to the girl, putting an arm around the back and smiling at her, "don't mind 'im, love, 'es jus' bein' an arse again."

John scoffed and went to the kitchen, Paul trailing him closely. This left just the three of them in the living room. Claire got up from her seat, careful with her ankle, just in case.

"Where ye goin', luv?" George questioned, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

Claire picked up all the bags from the ground, "I'll jus' go put these away."

And so she left to John's room where she would be staying for a bit. Claire sat down on the bed and took all the clothes out, neatly folding and stacking them next to her.

The door of the room opened and John waltzed in carrying two teacups and a bag between his teeth. He put the teas down and plopped down next to her on the bed, messing up her stacks of clothes in the process. Claire groaned in frustration and John simply chuckled in return.

"What brings ye?" she asked as she refolded a few shirts.

John's mouth rose in a long grin, "well, it's me room, in't it?"

Claire caught on to his jokes, she chuckled softly and shrugged her shoulders. John took the clothes from her hands and handed her a cup of tea instead. It felt wonderfully warm in her hands. After having taken a sip from his own tea, John took the bag he'd brought and got down on the ground in front of Claire's legs.

"John, what're ye doin'?" the girl inquired.

The man sighed and unzipped it, taking out a few things, "in case ye din't notice, yer knees are all fooked up..."

"Oh..." she took a look at them, "so they are."

John got to cleaning them with what he'd brought. The room was oddly silent. No, not uncomfortably so, the silence just seemed strange for some reason. Claire watched with curiosity as John, carefully as he could, poured alcohol on the scrapes and then dabbed them with cotton. She'd been pleasantly surpised that he was so gentle and caring with her right now. Claire had never heard much about John doing such sweet little gestures for a nobody like her. In a way it was slightly off putting to her, but the again it was also quite nice.

With a finality, John placed a bandaid on each knee and smiled brightly at her. The grin quickly shifted to a more cheeky one when he caught her watching him with the strangest look.

He remained where he was sat on the floor, looking like a naughty school-boy, "it would be awfully easy teh get a taste of ye right now, love..."

Claire's jaw dropped in shock. He'd just stated it so nonchalantly, so very casually. And no, Claire wasn't a naíve girl, she knew what he meant by those words. Her cheeks tinted red and she smacked John Lennon on the head for that remark. The lad only chuckled heartily at this. He obviously found it oh so entertaining.

"Ye ruined the moment Lennon."

"Oh, come off it! I was just kiddin' with ye," he said after being finished with his round of laughter.

That was another thing, Claire had never imagined that John would laugh so much and so often. Maybe that opinion had formed after seeing John during the later years of his life. Then he seemed more gaunt and stoic than now. The dream was still alive and in it's prime. 'The dream is over' such heartbreaking words coming from and ex-beatle when they broke apart. For his and the others' sake she hoped the dream would last longer this time 'round. And Claire would try and make sure of it.

"John, why are ye so nice to me one moment and the next ye're makin' fun?" Claire asked, genuinely curious.

The man shrugged his shoulders and sipped on his tea, "there's not much teh tell, Miss Claire. I jus' saw tha' ye were hurt...and wha' kind of host would I be if I just let ye sit around all pained and shite?"

Claire smiled fondly at him and decided to ask, "where should I put me clothes, John?"

"Ehhh, how bou' ye put them on tha' chair and I'll ask Brian for a suitcase ye could use?" John seeemed to asking himself more than her, but Claire nodded anyway.

She had moved her clothes away. The two had finished their tea when they exited the room and saw the rest of the beatles lounging around on chairs and couches. Ringo was engaged in a conversation with Paul, and George seemed to be plucking aimlessly around on his guitar. John ploppped down next to George, thorougly startling him. Meanwhile Claire took out the cups.

A few ten minutes later the five had decided on heading downstairs to the hotel's pool. They convinced Claire by telling her of how fun it would be. But for the boys a larger part of the appeal was being able to see Claire in a swimsuit. They of course didn't mention any of this to the girl, knowing that she'd probably smack them or something.

And so the five found themselves down by the pool. John and George had jumped in immediately and began a splash war between the two of them. Paul waded in from the stairs a lot more careful with what he was doing as he dived under the surface. Meanwhile, Ringo sat by the pool's edge, dipping his legs in the water.

Paul came up for air and brushed the wet hair from his eyes, "aren' ye comin' in, luv?"

Claire took a seat next to Ringo, "nah, I think I'll jus' stay with Ringo for a bit..."

Paul shrugged and swam off. Truthfully she'd seen Ringo sit down and was reminded that the poor lad couldn't really swim. Claire didn't want to leave him all alone and so she decided to join.

"Didn't ye want to swim? I mean, what's the point of comin' to the pool if ye won't even swim?" Ringo questioned timidly as he twisted the rings on his fingers.

"Am I botherin' ye, Duckie?" Claire asked innocently, " 'Cause I can go if ye don' want me here."

Ringo's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, "no, no tha's not wha' I meant! I just thought ye wanted more fun than sittin' around with just me..."

"Well, wha's wrong with just ye, Ringo?"

The man shrugged, looking off at the shining blue water lapping at his legs, "everyone jus' seems teh like the other lads more than me...I figured ye would prefer to spend time with them..."

Claire giggled a bit and took Ringo's warm hands into her own, hiving them a pat, "I'll tell ye right now then, I'd rather prefer sitting here with ye than being there."

Ringo felt his heart swell about twenty times at Claire's words. She wanted to stay with him! She paid attention to him! Not the others! But him, just him! Claire and Ringo!

And so the two felt content talking about silly little things as they watched their friends mess around and bother the other people here at the hotel's pool area. John kept 'accidentally' splashing this one old posh couple, but they wouldn't do much besides huffing to each other about this generation's delinquents.

Ringo had currently gone off to get drinks for him and Claire as well as go to the bathroom. John, Paul and George had moved on and were taking turns diving into the water. Apparently this was their effort at impressing the girl. Each of them kept trying to out-do the last, thinking that the biggest, most showiest would win something.

At that very moment, John was about to dive, George was getting out of the pool and Paul stood getting ready to go in after John. He did dive in and Paul was about to go as well, but noticed some random lad sitting with Claire and quite obviously trying to chat her up. Paul huffed and grabbed George by the arm, dragging him along. They stomped over to where the two were sat. And at first they didn't say or do anything at all as they tried to see where this lad was going with his game.

John had noticed that the other two weren't by the diving board and were instead stood near Claire and some bloke. He made his way over as well, but just like Paul and George, John ended up standing nearby not knowing what exactly to do.

Just then, almost like he'd known, Ringo came back to Claire, confidently sat next to her and handed her her drink. Claire accepted it gladly.

"Ringo! Ye're back!" she was happy to see him return, now having a good excuse to get rid of the random bloke sitting next to her and flirting his arse off.

"Yes, wouldn't leave ye for the world," Ringo smiled widely.

The guy had noticed who this man was and backed off slightly. He couldn't compete with a rockstar, especially one as widely popular in England as this one. Just as he got up to walk away, the lad made the mistake of making eye-contact with the other three beatles. Each gave him a serious look, effectively scaring the bloke. The Beatles weren't people you'd want to mess with. They might be musicians now, but, before everything, they had all kinda been in gangs. They'd fought guys before and they'd won. These lads were well built and strong.

The guy walked off and John, Paul and George jumped into the pool swimming right up to Ringo and Claire, who took sips of her drink. John rested his arms and head on Claire's thighs, looking up at her through his lashes. The girl laughed and offered him her drink to which he gladly accepted.

Just as Claire had set down her glass, John pulled her into the water with him. George and Paul did the same to Ringo, except they actually held onto him afterwards, not wanting the guy to drown because of their stupidity.

John cackled as Claire spewed out water and glared at him, "and after I gave you my drink...tsk tsk, Mr. Lennon."

The others joined in on the laughter, but Claire soon found herself being dunked by the twiggy arms of one George Harrison. When she came back up to the surface she shot a death glare at the guy and began to chase after him. George desperately tried to get away from the girl who seemed hell-bent on getting back at him.

"I'm gonna strangle ye, Harrison!"

All in good spirits, this went on for a few hours up until they decided their hands were too wrinkly and they wanted to be dry again.

Now they found themselves back upstairs in the living area, wrapped up in blankets and drinks in their hands. You see, they'd decided to play 20 questions and someone had suggested having drinks. The rules of the game were bent for their enjoyment and most them were directed at Claire anyway.

" 'ey, alright, next question. Claire luv, tell us abou' yer family," George spoke with the slightest lull to his voice.

"Oh come on, Geo, tha' ain't even a question!" Paul exclaimed at his friend, obviously having had quite a few drinks.

Claire patted Paul's shoulder with a dopey grin, " 's alrigh', Paulie..."

Claire began again, "I don't 'ave any brothers or sisters and only two cousins. Me mum died in a car crash when I was...eight and me dad went deaf after tha'. He was in the car with her when it 'appened..."

She'd trailed off, looking at the wall with glazed eyes. Ever since Claire'd arrived she hadn't realized how much she missed her dad. So much had happened in just two days, it was just preposterous.

John placed his warm hand on her knee, "ye don' 'ave to tell us any more if ye're not comfortable..."

Claire shook her head, "no i's not tha'. It's just tha' I 'aven't thought much about him ever since I got here. I miss 'im a lot. He raised me all on 'is own. He taught me 'ow to play instruments and 'e got me into music all together...'e used to want to be a rockstar, but then life threw 'im for a loop an' left 'im caring for 'is wife and daughter instead. I was an accident. If I hadn't been born, me dad would've probably made it as big as Elvis or ye guys..."

John pulled the girl in for an embrace, "don' say that, luv! If ye 'adn't been born we would've never met ye."

"Yeah, Claire, we love 'avin ye 'round. Imagine if we never met ye!" Paul chimed in.

Claire looked to George and Ringo who nodded in agreement, bright grins lighting their face like billboards. Her chest felt warm and like it was buzzing. Maybe it was just the alcohol or maybe it was the love and acceptance she felt from these boys.

Questions flew arround the room, flooding it with drunken giggling and smart-assed answers. This felt normal, this felt like home. Being here with the Beatles in 1964 was surprisingly normal and familiar.

John laid on the ground flat on his stomach, "okay, Claire, remember ye told me that ye had a very recent ex-boyfriend? What 'appened?"

Claire's humorous grin fell from her lips, replaced by a solemn angry frown, "Teddy...he cheated on me."

George leaned up against her much like a drunk cat, "that sounds 'orrible! I bet 'e was an absolute knob to 'ave done tha' to someone as amazing as ye."

"Well, 'e didn't cheat in the way ye'd think. I's just that 'e fell in love with another girl while we were still together and he'd been seein' her as well. I found out an' ran right away, which is quite stupid in hindsight..." Claire explained, downing her glass' contents.

"What a right bloody git!" Ringo exclaimed while refilling Claire's glass.

"Now that I think about it, I should probably change that background picture of 'im that I 'ave on me phone...maybe I should put ye guys there instead..."

John choked on his drink as the rest watched Claire confusedly, wondering what she meant by phone and background picture.

"What are ye talkin' 'bout, luv? Wha' phone?" George questioned, still leaned against Claire and seeming to curl around her body like a snake.

"Ye know! A phone! All modern like! It doesn' even 'ave number buttons!" Claire spewed giddily.

The boys watched with strange confusion. They were drunk, sure, but what in the world was she talking about. Claire turned to John who seeemd to have sobered up in mere seconds. He definitely could handle his alcohol the best out of the four. John wasn't all that drunk and could comprehend things.

"Remember, John, ye though it was a picture frame?!" she laughed histerically at the memory, quite drunk at this point, beyond realizing what exactly she was saying.

"Tha' **was** a picture frame, luv," John lied in an effort to cover it up as Claire just being drunk and speaking nonsense.

"Nuh-uh, I even explained it to ye, all about it and ye saw it with yer own eyes!" Claire had become frustrated.

John needed to get her away from here, "obviously ye've had too much to drink. Let's get ye to sleep, alrigh'?"

Claire shook her head 'no' but John picked her up and carried her away anyway. She protested for a minute and got tired so she relaxed in John's arms. He appreciated this greatly, it was easier to carry her if she wasn't struggling like a tiny kid.

John placed her down on the bed in his room, leaving her atop the covers. Carefully he managed to get her underneath the blanket.

"Would ye tuck me in, Johnny?" Claire asked innocently with the most adorable sleepy smile in the world since Paul's.

He complied and tucked the pretty girl in, making sure she was warm and could have a proper sleep. John didn't have an idea of what to do now so he simply laid atop the covers next to Claire. His eyes bored into the white ceiling above him. It seemed never ending, like a void, except white.

"Johnny, why can't the others know I'm from the future?" John's heart leapt at her gentle tone, so innocent sounding.

But all he could do in response was shrug his shoulders. He didn't know why. Why couldn't they?

After about five minutes John broke the veil of silence, " 'ey, luv, are ye awake?"

"Yeah. I can't even sleep."

"Alright, then I'll just ask ye questions until ye get tired."

"But, John, we already did tha' back there with the boys..." Claire whined.

"I know, I know, please, just for me?"

Claire couldn't say no and so she conceded, "ask away then."

He nodded, "who's yer favorite beatle?"

"Mmmm...George, I'd 'ave to say," with no filter at all, Claire went about spouting answers like it was nobody's business.

"Really?! Georgie?!" John was bewildered that out of them all George had been her favorite.

"Mhmm..." the girl hummed.

"Uhmm, okay, how many albums do we make as a band?"

"Uhhh, like thirteen I think? But tha' was within the span of eight or so years..." Claire answered truthfully, her eyes closed and John staring at the ceiling.

"Wow..." no other words could John form and then he asked another question, "so how long were we a band?"

"Officially? Until 1970 but ye had announced privately to the lads that ye were leaving the Beatles sometime in 1969...but yeah, it was Paul's 1970 public announcement tha' made it official..."

John gaped at the girl. Had she really just told him all that? He didn't expect to ever hear these answers from her. John thought it would be a mystery up until the day when it just happened.

But then Claire continued with a sad look overtaking her features, "apparently ye had said to the lads tha' and I quote 'the dream is over'...doesn' tha' just hit ye right in the guts?"

John didn't say much for a bit after that answer. Another question then swirled back into his mind. He'd already wondered the same thing the time that Claire had showed him Paul's song from his newest album in the future.

"Ye said tha' Paul still makes music in the future and he even got the top spot on the billboard hot 200...so...so wha' about the rest of us? Wha' about Georgie, Ringo...me?" John inquired, rather heartbroken already.

"Ringo doesn't make his own music anymore really, but 'e does tour around an' perform a lot. 'e even sings...But I suppose ye an' Geo don' really make any music..." Claire's tone was gravely, like even in her drunken state it bothered her.

"Why don' we make music, me and George?"

" 'Cause yer both dead, Johnny," Claire was so incredibly drunk and sleepy that it didn't even register in her mind what she was saying.

John's mouth fell open, his eyes nearly popped out of his head, "ho-how...I don-don't get it...what-wha-what 'appened?"

Claire snuggled into her pillow, burying her nose into the soft cloud-like thing, "mmm, ye got shot in the back in 1980 and George got cancer...probably from smoking all 'is life..."

John's head was spinning and he ran to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. He unwillingly emptied his stomach and leaned his back against the wall. Tears built up in his eyes and exactly three spilled over, before John could stop them. He got back up from the ground and rinsed his mouth of the disgusting taste.

John stumbled back into the room and saw that Claire had fallen asleep already. So the man took his leave. Exiting the room, he found himself walking to where the alcohol stood next to some glasses. John poured a whole glass of something brown, he didn't pay much mind to what it was, and downed it in one go. The harsh burn slid down his throat and tears spilled from his eyes and streamed down his hot cheeks.

His hands gripped the kitchen counter with force and John desperately wanted to pull himself together. But no matter what, he couldn't do it. The shock was too much, the pain of knowing too much was a horrible weighing rock in his chest. John clawed at himself, wanting to not feel anyting right now, but he felt so much, too much.

The man poured himself another drink, downed it and poured another, downed it and so on until he just forgot about the glass and drank straight from the bottle. When he first took it, the bottle had been only just opened, maybe one drink had been poured from it. But now the bottle lay discarded on the ground next to John, who had at some point moved to sit on the living area ground. He was leaned against the coffee table, sipping on some beer he'd found.

John drank and drank and drank until he could barely move. He did it to forget, to stop the pain and the pit already formed in his entire body. Trying to move somewhere so as to not be leaned against an uncomfortable coffee table, John tried crawling. The poor lad only got as far as the TV set. John collapsed and passed out right there on the spot, in front of the TV. His night sure had taken a nasty turn.


	4. Fixing a Hole

It was an early morning when Claire opened her eyes to find the bedroom as empty as ever. Her head kept pounding with the hangover from last night. Why had she drank so much?

The last thing she could clearly remember was sitting around with the Beatles, answering questions and taking a swig of her drink. It all became very fuzzy after a question about what kind of music she liked.

Shrugging off her lack of memories, Claire got up and out of the bed. She noted that John was not there with her in the morning yet again, but decided it must mean that he'd already gotten up as he had done yesterday. Claire gathered clothes for the day and entered the empty bathroom.

When she'd finished with getting ready, Claire exited John's room and found that the others were all conveniantly doing the same as her. Smiles and greetings were exchanged.

"Aye, Claire luv, where's John?" Paul asked after noticing the man's non-presence.

"I d'know. 'E wasn't in the room when I got up and I don't remember much from last night..." the girl explained.

"Oh..."

The four were thoroughly confused and went further into the living area to find their friend. They were just about to check the couch area, when Brian walked in through the door.

"Good morning, lads...and uhh Claire," Brian awkwardly greeted, he'd still have to get used to the girl.

Claire smiled back at the man and Ringo decided to ask, "ey, Bri, 'ave ye seen John by any chance?"

"Uh, no, why?"

"Well we 'aven't found 'im yet and were worried," Ringo explained, Brian's brow curling into a displeased frown.

"Keep looking then!"

And they did, eventually finding the man sleeping on the floor by the TV set. John was curled into a fetal position, looking rough and smelling so strongly that it could be detected by a person a mile away. A second later they noticed the empty alcohol bottle close by, a bottle they could've sworn had been basically untouched last night.

"Oh, no..." Paul crouched down next to the man, "Johnny, are ye okay?!"

He didn't even stir and so they began their effort to wake him up. Paul spoke to him, Ringo rocked him, George flicked his face and poked at him. Brian and Claire were left to watch the discourse. After a few minutes John started waking up and just as he did, his hands flew to his head in pain.

"Owww, me 'ead 'urts! What 'appened?" John questioned as he began to sit up.

George and Paul moved him to sit against the couch, "well, guessin' by the empty bottle, I think i's safe to assume ye drank too much las' night..."

John groaned in pain and Brian sent Claire off to fetch some pain relievers. She ran back into the room with a glass of water and ibuprofen.

"Now, John, care to explain why ye almost drank yerself to death las' night?" Paul inquired with a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"When you knew we'd be leaving early next morning, no less," Brian added.

John gulped down the water and put his hands over his eyes to block out the burning lights, "I don' remember alrigh'!? I guess i' just wasn' enough fer me yesterday..."

The others saw through his bullshit, he obviously wasn't a good liar when he was extremely hungover. Just as they were about to call him out on it though, John interjected first.

"Wha's with the interrogation anyway? Don' ye 'ave anything better to do?"

Brian rolled his eyes and straightened out his posture, "of course! The lads, mis Claire and I are going to get brekfast downstairs. Meanwhile you'll be getting ready to leave when we get back."

"But, Eppy!" John complained, his head throbbing violently.

The man only gave John a final look, making him give up. There was simply no way he was gonna argue with Brian while suffering the hangover of the century.

George and Ringo left the room, Claire between the two. Brian shot John another displeased look and walked after the first three. Paul stuck around the longest.

"Ye should take a shower, Johnny, ye stink of alcohol and ye look rumpled as a dirty pair of knickers," Paul remarked with a small smirk playing on his pretty lips.

John laughed sarcastically at him and threw a pillow at Paul who quickly ran off to follow the others. Lennon was now left on his own accord. For the first three minutes he just stayed on the sofa, his eyes shut tightly. Then eventually got up and stumbled to the bathroom, where he undressed from yesterday's clothes and stepped into the shower.

He exited the bathroom completely in the nude and idly strutted over to his room. He probably should've been more careful, god forbid if a fan would've snuck in. She most likely would've screamed histerically, then ripped his dick off and taken it as a souvenir. Maybe she would've even asked him to sign it afterwards.

Once in the room, John put on a dress shirt, black slacks and other clothes and packed the rest up in his suitcase. John noticed the empty suitcase by the drawers and all of Claire's clothes and belongings still splayed out over the chair. So he began to put everything away for her.

Meanwhile, all the others sat downstairs in the dining area, eating their brekfast in silence. That is, until George spoke up.

"Ey, luv, las' night John took ye to bed after ye said some drunken stuff abou' 'phone backgrounds'," yes, he did in fact do air quotes with his fingers, "do ye really not remember anythin'? Anythin' tha' might've set 'im off?"

Claire stared dumbfoundedly at George, "no, the las' thing I remember clearly is being asked abou' wha' music I liked and after tha' things begin to get fuzzy. I think I remember John tuckin' me in and then askin' me somethin', but fer the life of me, I really can't remember."

The others didn't delve too far into it and Brian decided to change the subject, "Claire, you know how I told you you could work for me and the boys in exchange for staying here?"

The girl nodded casually as she sipped her tea, the others were a bit apprehensive about what Brian would say.

"Well, the boys have a show tonight and I could use a photographer to take a few pictures. Would you be willing to do it?" the man was much more pleasant now than he'd been when Claire was first introduced.

Claire nodded franctically to his offer, "tha' would be fantastic, Mr. Epstein! I've always loved taking photographs."

"Good. I'll give you a camera once we're there at the venue," obviously Brian was very pleased by her answer and so he sat back in his seat a tad more relaxed.

The group checked the time and saw that they'd only have enough time to get back upstairs, take their belongings and rush back downstairs into a car. They swiftly left the table, Claire grabbing an armful of things for John to eat on the way. The elevator took them to their floor, where they speedwalked to their door and opened it to find John Lennon carrying two suitcases to the door, one being his and the other Claire's.

"Finally, yer back! Now, can I get some brekky? Oh please, oh please, sir, I've been good all mornin'!" John pleaded, even getting down on his knees in an exagerated manner.

Brian pulled him up, "no, we don't have any time, we gotta go now or we'll miss the train."

John frowned deeply as the rest rushed to get their things, Claire was about to go off as well, but was stopped by John.

"Nah, i's okay. I already packed yer stuff all in this 'ere suitcase," he lifted it up by the handle, showing it off for the girl.

Claire smiled greatfully at him, "thank ye!"

John waved her off. The two stood there for a second, both taking in each other's appearances. Claire, admiring the way John looked in a tidy suit, his mop top hair still stubbornly disheveled, almost as a show of rebellion to Brian. John watched the way Claire looked dressed in her new, more casual clothes. He particularly admired her choice of wearing trousers, not many women did this yet and her long legs looked splendid in them.

Claire suddenly withdrew from her mind palace and spoke with a deep smile, "oh, John! I figured ye might be 'ungry so I got ye some food from the table to eat on the way."

John had snapped out of his reverie, his eyes finding the appetizing looking food residing in the arms of Claire. His eyes met her face and the widest smile strecthed on his cheeks. Arms folding around Claire, the man made crying noises into her hair.

"Oh, ye lovely, lovely girl! Thank ye! Bless yer heart!" John trashed her around, Claire's feet lifting from the ground as he placed kisses all over the top of her head.

This happened just as the others reentered the sitting room. The scene that greeted them was a tad odd, but it was John after all. It was well known between them that the man had an aptitude for being absolutely strange and unpredictable. But none could complain about it really, without him things would be awfully dull.

"Why don' ye jus' marry me now?!" John exclaimed without giving a thought to what he was saying.

Claire's cheeks grew a violent shade of red, this was seen by everyone in the room, besides John. George, Paul and Ringo simply burst into laughter at the ridiculous scene. Hungover, starved and sleep deprived John was a hilarious mess of emotions and jumbled, unfiltered words. All in all, a good fun show he was, like a personal one man circus with it's own resident fool clown.

Claire detangled herself from him, handed him all the food and grabbed her suitcase of things. The lot of them left the hotel and rode off in a car to the nearest train station. Brian explained on the way that they'd be going to a smaller town three and a half hours outside of London. Apparently the Beatles would perform a show at some local theater. He told of how the seats had all been sold out very quickly and that they even had to add more tickets due to the simple fact that the demand had been too high to ignore.

And so they ran onto the train. The running wasn't because they were late, they actually made it relatively on time. No, fans of the Beatles had somehow found out and showed up to their platform, all desperately trying to get a piece of the guys. And so they ran as fast as they could, hoping to escape the pandemonium. Ringo'd even made his responsibility to make sure Claire was still there and safe by holding onto her hand as they ran.

Once on the train, the Beatles found an empty compartment for themselves. Brian chose to sit apart from them and chat with some aquaintance he'd noticed had also been on the same train as them.

Just as they sat down and Brian had left for sure, George and John got back up, leaving for the dining cart. Obviously both were still quite hungry. John had spent the whole way here snacking on what Claire had so sweetly provided for him. As the two passed the many compartments, they managed to wink at some pretty birds they saw and make disturbing faces at the older people. Eventually John and George were sat by a table and were happily eating food from their plates. When they finished, George leaned back in his seat, exhaling a contented sigh and smiling. He took out his pack of cigarettes and put one inbetween his lips, ready to light it and take a relaxing drag.

John, probably would've taken one himself and joined the lad. But after Claire's words from yesterday came into his mind, John snatched the thing away from him before he could light it. There was no way he'd let George ruin his lungs and besides, the quicker he started to cut out smoking, the better. John contemplated convincing all the others to quit as well or at the very least, do it a bit less than now.

"Ey! Wha' was tha' for, Lennon?!" George exclaimed, taking another one from the pack.

John snatched that one away too and then the whole pack with it, "I'm not lettin' ye smoke, Geo! It's really bad for ye, makes yer lungs go black and...and ye could even get lung cancer and die! Wha' good would ye be to us if ye died or worse, sounded like a tank engine when ye sang?"

"But I saw ye smokin' just yesterday! And ye don' even let me sing most of the time..."

"I'll 'ave ye know I 'ad a revelation las' night abou' the dangers of smokin' and 'ave decided to quit as well," John stated with false confidence.

"Oh, so this is one of those things again, ey? Where ye get some idea and then force us all to do it too," George hated following John's every whim, he often would do this to his friends.

"Yes!" John stated firmly, finally seeing a way to convince George, "but this one is actually all about our 'ealth. Do ye want to grow old an' not be able to sing or perform at all 'cause everytime ye get a cough, ye're afraid ye'll end up with a lung in yer lap?!"

George knew he was no match for Lennon. Who even was? So George gave in, he didn't protest. He thought it wouldn't be all that bad, I mean, as long as John follows through with it himself.

George eyed John weirdly, heaving a defeated sigh, "...alrigh', I'll stop the smokin', but only if ye and the lads do too."

"Done," John grinned at George's expression of disdain.

John stashed the ciggies away and smiled triumphantly, with undertones of thankfulness. The two lounged around the dining area, trying to see who could make the most waitresses and girls giggle and blush as well as getting a good laugh out of the older, more posh people. It was strangely good fun for the two.

Back in the train compartment, Paul and Ringo conversed about something that Claire hadn't the interest to listen in on. She sat by the window seat and watched the scenery go by in blurs of green and brown. Her head rested in the palm of her hand, Claire's mind wandering back to home. Had time passed at all back home? And if it had, then somebody probably noticed that Claire had basically dropped off the face of the earth. At least one of her coworkers or her boss should have noticed that she hadn't come into work for a few days. Would she ever get back home or would she be stuck in the 1960's forever?

Well maybe if she stayed with the Beatles it wouldn't actually be too bad. They seemed trustworthy and so far had been nothing but kind and considerate to her. But how would history play out now that she was here? Would her presence alone cause major changes?

" 'Ey, luv, are ye alrigh'? Ye look a tad down," Ringo asked, gazing worriedly at the girl.

Claire was snapped out of her thoughts and thankfully so, "yes, I'm alright, Duckie, jus' 'ave a full 'ead..."

Ringo grinned at her use of the nickname and didn't question her any further, not wanting to upset the girl even more. Paul looked confusedly at Claire, he didn't understand how the two had already figured out nicknames. Honestly, he felt a bit jealous of Ringo. Paul too wished to have a nickname given by Claire. He liked her and having a nickname would mean having her approval.

Paul sat there, slumped in his seat, sulking about his own petty problems. A big bright smile was splayed on Ringo's cheeks as he watched Claire looking out of the window again. She did seem very bothered by whatever her thoughts were about. But Ringo couldn't really blame the girl. The poor thing had just ended up passed out on a beach, gotten found by some strange guys, lost her memory and now had to keep going on with her life at where it was now.

Ringo got up from his seat, "I'm goin' to the loo."

Paul merely hummed a response to signal that he'd heard. As Ringo left the compartment, Paul shifted in his seat, a small grin sneaking along his cheeks. He lifted the armrest and moved to sit closer to Claire, his side pressing against her. The girl looked curiously at Paul, who only seemed to be smiling widely at her, a strange glint in his eyes.

"Well, ye're getting quite close there, Paulie..." Claire pointed out quietly.

Paul pretended to look at the non-existant space between them and then he spoke, "oh, so I am!"

But he didn't move away at all. His eyes taking in every last feature on her face. He saw the delicate way her eyelashes curled upward or her pink, thin lips practically begging for his. Paul wondered how well their lips would fit together. Would it be like a perfect puzzle piece? Her eyes were almond shaped and a rich coffee brown, absolutely stunning. And her cheeks, oh her cheeks! So pink and seemingly perfect for kisses to be laid on them. Paul, of course, wouldn't mind doing just that. It seemed that every part of Claire made the man wish to just kiss every last inch of her as delicately and lovingly as he never had before.

"Wha'...why are ye lookin' at me like tha'?"

Paul gave her his best bedroom eyes, "well, ye're certainly very beautiful, love..."

Claire's eyes widened and her cheeks burned pink, "I...I-ah, oh wow, uhmm thanks, Paul..."

"Ye're probably the prettiest bird I've ever 'ad the pleasure to 'ave seen," Paul seemed extremely pleased to have achieved his goal of making the girl flustered.

Claire put her relatively cold hands on her burning cheeks. Never in a million years would she have thought Paul freaking McCartney would be saying all these things to her. Claire knew she was a relatively good looking girl, but she never imagined Paul telling her she's the prettiest one he's ever seen!

Paul took her hands in his, "yer 'ands are quite cold, luv. 'ere, let me 'elp ye warm up."

He put the hands up to his mouth and began placing little kisses all over. The look in his hooded eyes could have driven anyone, man or woman, completely mad. Paul held her hands with such tenderness, placing the kisses on them with a lovely gentleness.

"Yer 'ands are very beautiful, Claire," the way he said her name was almost erotic, "...so, so very soft too."

More and more kisses, Claire getting redder and more flustered with each one. No man had ever kissed her hands like this. Teddy certainly never had and he was considered very sweet and touchy feely. But even he was no match for a determined and insanely flirty Paul McCartney.

"Paul..." this made the man's heart leap in the most pleasant manner, "my 'ands are all warmed up now."

The man simply raised a teasing eyebrow and placed another kiss on her fingers. He didn't seem to listen at all and stubbornly flirted on with her. Paul was gonna make her like him if it was the last thing he did. There weren't any malicious intentions behind his need to have her like him. No, Paul just wanted the pretty girl, that seemed to have gotten John's approval in less than an hour. Obviously she was something special if he'd been willing to just accept her and let her stay with him. John even seemed to have taken a very big interest in the girl, constantly making sure she's okay, going through extra effort just so she's comfortable.

And then the little bubble Paul had created was burst by the remaining three beatles entering the compartment and plopping down in the seats. They noticed Paul's proximity to the girl and Claire's burning red cheeks.

"Wha's goin' on 'ere then?" John inquired suspiciously, mostly directed at Paul.

The said man only grinned proudly, a tad smug, and shrugged his shoulders as if he'd been innocent as a child. John eyed him with lingering suspicion of what Paul had been up to. He was well known to flirt relentlessly if he got into the habit of it. I mean, c'mon, the man could be found flirting with his bandmates and other people he knew. Paul loved attention, no matter from whom.

"...right," John turned the attention away from Paul, redirecting it to Claire.

She seemed a bit flustered still, but mostly she just stared out of the window yet again. Now her mind wasn't absent at all. On the contrary, she was painfully aware of the looks she kept receiving from both John and Paul, who seemed hell-bent on getting her to pay attention to him all the time.

A good twenty minutes were spent in silence before the boys became too bored to function. They decided to chase the boredom away by singing songs. It had mostly started when Ringo tapped his fingers on the wooden window pane. Absentmindedly he tapped the beat to 'I Want To Hold Your Hand'. The boys caught on quickly and Paul and John began to harmonize. George did his handclaps, leaving Claire to simply stare with starry-eyed wonder.

This was like a private performance almost, only the five of them in that tiny, cramped compartment. With the next song they did, 'Hello Little Girl', John encouraged Claire to join in, figuring that if she was from the future, she might know the lyrics.

_"When I see you everyday_  
_I say, "Mm mm hello little girl"_  
_When you're passing on your way_  
_I say, "Mm mm hello little girl"_  
_When I see you passing by_  
_I cry, "Mm mm hello little girl"_  
_When I try to catch your eye_  
_I cry, "Mm mm hello little girl"_ _"_ , John and Claire sang the main parts, Paul and George doing backups and Ringo tapping along merrily.

Claire had only ever heard this song sung by John as a homemade demo that he did with Stu and his bass. And even though there weren't any guitars or full production, they managed to make it sound like one of the best songs ever written.

As the song progressed into the next part, John's voice faded into harmonies, leaving Claire as the only one singing, _"I send you flowers but you don't care_  
_You never seem to see me standing there_  
_I often wonder what you're thinking of_  
_I hope it's me and love love love."_

This was the first time that the Beatles had heard Claire sing and, honestly, she was magnificent at it. When she finished the song she finally noticed that she'd ended up singing it all alone. Then she remembered the fact that this song wasn't well known at all. How could she, a girl supposedly from this time period, know the words to the song that was only heard by very few. Thankfully George, Paul and Ringo didn't see much wrong with it. And John only seemed to be beaming with that smile on his face. He just thought it was cute that Claire knew all the words and the melody to the first song he ever wrote.

The train soon came to a halt, Brian entering their compartment almost simulteniously, "right, boys, we're at the station. Get up!"

The Beatles heaved a heavy sigh and got up from their seats and began to leave the train. Just like every place they went to, fans had gathered and crowded the station, trying to get even a tiny glimpse of the Beatles. Brian had began to get used to these situations and so he'd already planned ahead. He made the group of them rush along to the car already waiting on them.

The car was cramped and there obviously would not be enough space for the four of them all in the back as Brian sat in the front with the driver. So it had been decided that one of them would either have to walk or they would have to get crafty. The very first thing suggested was that Claire should just lay across their legs and they'd go that way. But then Paul became addamant about not letting 'a lady such as herself' just lay there all exposed like that.

And so John had taken it upon himself to do it instead. He laid his entire body across the other three beatles and put his head in Claire's lap, gazing up at her. John took a leap of faith and took Claire's hands, putting them hear his head. She took the hint and began to comb his hair and massage his scalp with her fingers. The man almost seemed to be purring at the sensation of Claire's nimble digits.

Eventually the tired and still quite hungover man fell asleep right there. Claire continued the action, afraid that if she stopped he'd wake up. Earlier she had tried to stop running her fingers through his hair and remove her hands, but whenever this happened, John would immediately whine a request for her to keep going.

Paul was sat smushed in the seat next to Claire and the man kept stealing glances. Whenever she caught his eye, there seemed to be a certain sparkle in his eye that told her exactly what was on his mind. Claire knew that he must've been thinking of the little moment they had alone in the train compartment. Paul would subtly wink at her, making the girl all flustered yet again.

The man yawned and let his head fall on Claire's shoulder. Now, here she was inbetween the Lennon-McCartney songwrittership. If someone had told her a week ago that John Lennon would be falling asleep on her lap and Paul McCartney would doze off on her shoulder, she would've called bullshit immediately. But somehow the universe had come together to make this all happen.

The car stopped by the back entrance to the hotel and Claire was left to wake up the sleeping beatles. She looked at George, Ringo and Brian for help but they told her to just wake them and bring them up to the room.

"Paul...wake up," Claire dared take a hand and poke the lad, "c'mon please?!"

Paul shifted, beggining to wrap an arm arround her almost. Claire groaned in annoyance and used her free hand to shove Paul off of herself. The man fell backwards in the seat, landing on John's legs and startling him awake.

"Oi, wha' ya di' tha' fuh, mate?!" John sent an annoyed look straight at Paul, his accent coming through strongly to the point of gibberish.

"I d'know! Claire jus' shoved me off and I fell on ye."

John didn't pay much mind and snuggled his face into Claire's stomach, bringing his feet closer to himself. The man wanted more sleep after all.

"No, no, no! John, get yer arse up, Brian will make 'imself a new coat out of us if we're not up in the room in a minute!" Claire exclaimed as she tried to pry John's arms from around her waist.

But John held on tighter and whined in protest. Paul brushed himself off and began to fix his hair in the rearview mirror, sneaking disgruntled glances at the big baby man currently nestled in Claire's lap.

Paul looked away from the mirror and began to prod John, "oh, get up ye big baby, i's not tha' bad. And besides, ye can sleep at the 'otel, y'know?"

Finally, with Paul's help, Claire had been able to detangle John from her person and get him to walk up the stairs into the back of the hotel. The two of them stumbled around with a sleepy John Lennon clinging onto their arms for some kind of grip on reality. Somehow they had all eventually ended up at the door of the suite which was answered by George with a drink in his hand.

As soon as they made it into the room, John crashed on the couch like a sack of rocks and snoozed soundly. Well...until Brian walked into the room telling them that they have about an hour of just actually resting and then they'd have to get dressed and ready for the performance they had planned at the local theater.

Brian's announcement left John heading for the bed in his designated room. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow. Claire went to the kitchen area to get a cup of tea. Realizing she too was still feeling some of the effects of yesterday, Claire went to join John for sleep.

She noted that he was still asleep when she laid down. But as she got under the covers, John's arms reached for her and he nuzzled his face as far into her neck as he could. Claire had been taken by surprise yet again. She'd never thought John would be so soft and docile most of the time. Her expectation had always been that he'd be kinda distant, an unreachable figure that prided themselves on humour and making people uncomfortable. Time and time again she got proven wrong. John was actually quite nice, sure he made a lot of strange jokes and prided himself on being a witty bastard. But at the same time he seemed to care a lot about her and his friends.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up again. John still wrapped around her like a serpent, slight snores escaping his small mouth. Claire then noticed what had caused her to wake up standing by the door and holding a camera in his hands. George Harrison grinned cheekily at Claire and winked, quickly shutting the door before she could strangle him or something. Claire let her head fall back on the pillow. No doubt he'd be showing that photograph to the others. And what if John saw? He'd probably be embarrassed about having been photographed in such a compromising situation.

Apparently Claire's groan of annoyance had been enough to wake up Lennon, even if for a small second. He shifted his legs a little bit, snuggling into her hair and then relaxing back into a sleeplike state.

The girl decided it best to get up from the bed and see what the others were up to. She carefully detangled herself and walked out if the room. Thankfully she didn't yet wake John.

As she entered the living area, George and Ringo seemed to be chatting excitedly about what Claire could only guess was what George took a photo of. Paul sat by the TV looking a bit cross or atleast not in the most pleasant mood. The girl walked over to where Paul was sat on the sofa.

"Wha's up with them?" she asked just as her backside collided with the back of the sofa.

Paul's eyes left the TV for a split second to steal a look at her, "I d'know...they've been actin' like tha' since George came back from tryin' to wake ye and John up..."

"George, tha' bloody git!" Claire cussed silently under her breath.

Just as Paul was about to question her choice of words, Brian had entered the room holding a leather bag in his hand and an urgent look upon his face. He handed Claire the bag, saying that it contained the camera with which she'd be taking photos of the boys later at the concert.

He looked around and then sighed, deeply annoyed, "right, boys it's time for you to start getting ready or else we'll be late...again."

"But, Eppy, we're still tired and ye know 'ow quickly we can get dressed if the need arises," Paul tried using his charm to get them more time to relax during their crowded schedule.

"Sorry, Paul, but I'm gonna have to say no to that," Brian still insisted that they get dressed.

George and Ringo had settled down for a small bit, Ringo choosing to speak, "besides, Paul, ye take the longest to do yer 'air on top of everythin' else."

"Exactly! If you all don't get dressed now, we won't leave until it's already midnight!" Brian added.

The three beatles agreed and began to slump their bodies off the sofa, but stopped upon Brian's revelation, "hey, where's John, anyway?"

" 'es probably still sleepin' in 'is room..." George answered with a teasing grin directed at Claire.

"Well, then go wake him up then!"

Attention was drawn to Claire, but she immediately responded, "no, me an' Paul were left to wake John last time, i's George and Ringo's turn."

"I don't care who wakes him up! Just get him to wake and start getting dressed," with that Brian left the four of them on their own.

"But, luv, we all 'ave to go an' get ready, ye included and while ye get dressed ye can wake 'im up!" Ringo suggested.

"But..." the three beatles left quickly to not give her time to protest.

Claire heaved another sigh and began her trek back to the room she stayed in with John. Aparently the rooms had already been booked way before she dropped in on them, so it wasn't possible for her to get a room all for herself. But even so, John didn't seem too bothered with her presence at all.

Somehow, she had eventually woken John up and he was currently in the bathroom getting dressed and combing his hair. This time it had been a lot easier to get him up since he had slept off most of his hangover.

Thankfully, Claire had just managed to button up her blouse when John exited the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt, his tie lopsided and loose, only socks on his feet and his 'buddy holly' glasses perched on his nose. Claire couldn't help her thoughts that he looked adorable as all hell just then and there.

He stepped over to the black jacket hung by the door and slipped it onto his body. John stood next to Claire in front of the mirror in the room, fixing his jacket and fidling with the tie. Claire was busy putting in her very own earings and making sure her lipstick was even. John's eyes would occasionally dart to her face, thinking she wouldn't notice.

His struggle to make the tie look good enough was evident. So Claire reached out and did it for him, finding that he'd folded it wrong. But the fold that he failed to make was probably actually the most easy one to do and the hardest to muck up.

"Did ye do it wrong on purpose, John?" she caught him off guard with that as he didn't think she'd catch on.

John chuckled nervously, his face reddening with the embarrasment of getting caught, "well, ye see..."

Claire didn't ask him to continue that thought, she understood what he'd been hoping for. As Claire continued fixing it, a cheesy grin spread on her face, John's soon mirroring her's. He tilted his head upwards, taking a good look at the ceiling.

"I never noticed the ceiling bein' so starkly white..." John spoke absentmindedly.

She hummed in response, "there, all done."

"Thank ye, love. I'm jus' the clumsiest lad, aren' I?"

"Oh yes, absolutely..." she spoke sarcastically, her face contorted in an overly exagerrated way.

The two left the room together, heading for the living area where the others had already gathered. Brian joined them all and the six of them rode the elevator down to the lobby. Just as usual, they had to be snuck out the back, due to any fans lingering around the front.

The venue truly was quite a sight. The theater stood in front of them in all its glory, signalling of what was to come. A crowd of fans had already gathered by the entrance, holding signs, chatting loudly, squealing and so on. When their car rolled up and they realized it was indeed the Beatles in there, they cheered and they screamed and they cried and ceartainly made themselves get noticed.

Brian, realizing the danger Claire would be in, decided to think quickly and told the lads to shield her from the crowd. Claire had also been instructed to keep her face hidden as best as she could from the fans and the cameras.

And so, they all exited the car, protecting Claire and rushing inside. The door was held shut behind them and they left for backstage. The four beatles fixed their appearances in the mirrors hung on the walls.

Claire had nothing to do in the meanwhile and so she began snapping some pictures of the Beatles and whoever was in the room with them. She tried not overdoing it since this wasn't some 2010's camera that had a far larger storage for the photos. Obviously this, to Claire, vintage camera used film that she did not have an endless supply of. And besides the concert hadn't even began and there would be plenty of photos to take when it did.

The lot of them left a bit early for a soundcheck before all the raging fans were let in. Claire took even more photos then as the boys set up and began to tune their instruments.

They played a small improvised tune between them and when they saw that all was up to standard, the Beatles left the stage, holding their instruments, well those who could of course, Ringo leaving with his drumsticks. He shot warning looks at the stagecrew, daring them to touch his drums. They met up with Claire who stood by the left side of the stage, holding the camera and examining all the intricate little details on it.

"Ye're lookin' at the bleedin' thing like ye've never 'eld one before," Paul mentioned upon noticing the girl's immense interest.

John eyes widened a tad at Paul's words and he quickly tried to go in for the save, only to be beaten by Claire herself, "well I've never seen one quite like this one. The one I 'ad used to be very different..."

"Really? Different 'ow?" George had gotten curious as well.

"Well...it 'ad uhmm...a lot less buttons I suppose and..." she trailed off, realising she'd backed herself into a corner.

Paul was about ask more questions when, to John and Claire's absolute relief, Brian came along, telling them to get back to the dressing room. Apparently they'd be letting all the fans inside in a second and they should get going so as to not be trampled or stolen or something. The group were led away, Brian handing Claire another roll of film 'just in case'.

A few minutes of singalong and joking around about Ringo and George and it was finally time to start the show. The Beatles went ahead first, being the subject of photographers from newspapers and magazines. John was first in line, giving the cameras sarcastic grins and weirdly contorted faces. George went next, not doing much except for fidling with his guitar and its strings. Then followed Paul, doing his well known flirty bit, being all cute and charming. Ringo went last, showing a wide show-stopping smile at one of the cameras. And the photographers were lapping it all up, finding this absolutely perfect material for the newspapers.

Then the four walked on stage, making the hundreds upon hundreds of fans to begin to histerically scream and cry. They immediately tried to rush forwards to the stage, only to be stopped by some security. Meanwhile, Claire was stood more off to the side. That is up until she was nudged forwards to get all the angles by Brian.

He made sure that the security would let her wind her way around and snap the best shots. Honestly, as she moved around the place, Claire couldn't help but stop and just listen to them play their songs. Never ever could she have thought that she'd actually be attending an actual, honest-to-God Beatles concert.

Just as she was standing nearer the front of the stage and taking pictures of them, George looked over and shot her a wink. This made Claire smile and her cheeks turn a slight pink tinge. George's grin expanded and he kept gazing at her, much to the displeasure of some very nearby fans. These girls seemed to have noticed his excessive attention to Claire and obviously it didn't sit all too well with them.

They somehow called on Claire through all the loud fuss around them and showed their dislike of her. Having put a tiny damper on Claire's mood, the girls seemed pleased with themselves. George, having seen this discourse, decided to give Claire even more attention by overexaggeratedly flirting with her. She laughed at this and took another picture of him winking, the blush on her cheeks putting the biggest grin on George's lips.

Claire moved forwards to get a new angle for the photo. They had just finished singing 'I Want To Hold Your Hand' and John was now busying himself by introducing the next song.

"The next song we'd like to sing is from our latest album. I'd like to dedicate this to a particular friend of ours that 'as unexpectedly dropped into our lives recently...to you, luv!" John smiled cheerily at Claire who held the camera and stared with a bewildered expression at him.

Unbelievable! John freaking Lennon had just dedicated a song to her! What more could she ever ask for? Her entire life had been made just then, when John glanced at her, signalling that he was talking to her.

And so they began to play the chords to 'Baby It's You'. Of course, it wasn't one of their original songs, but it was still the Beatles singing their pretty little hearts out. Claire swayed along to the melody, singing along silently to the song, finding it absolutely wonderful, quite dreamlike, if you ask her. She was still waiting for the moment when this amazing experience would suddenly get cut off and she'd wake up back home with a concussion or hypothermia or something.

The guys sang three more songs afterwards and then ended the concert soon thereafter. They left the stage and Claire was escorted backstage, where she was met with the four sweaty beatles.

Paul tried to get a hug from the girl, only to be held at an arms legth, "no, nope, sorry, Paulie...ye're all super sweaty and I'm not doin' this right now."

The man frowned slightly, retracting his arms and running a hand through his damp hair. Ringo rolled his eyes at this and quickly wrapped his arms around Claire from behind. He lifted her into the air as she struggled against him, kicking her legs and protesting his actions. Claire could feel the sweat from him and tried to escape, to no avail. Ringo only chuckled at her, as did the others around them. He eventually put her down on the couch in the room.

Minutes later, the six of them found themselves in the car, heading back to the hotel. They'd be leaving again next morning. Their current hotel rolled into view not nearly quickly enough for the four Beatles who seemed way too exhausted to do much of anything. Somehow having made it up to the rooms, the four collapsed on their beds and fell asleep instantly.

Claire, not feeling awfully tired at all, decided to just make tea and wait until she'd actually become tired or something. Hopefully when she would go to sleep, John wouldn't be hogging the entire bed for himself.

The girl found a cup somewhere, some generic tea laying around the cupboards and the rest of the things she required. Having finished boiling it, Claire moved to sit on the sofa. She figured that there wouldn't really be much to watch on the TV, so she just rumaged around until she found a stack of papers near the phone and a few pens. Claire took the objects and moved back to sit on the sofa.

Her hands seemed to automatically find themselves drawing out the facial features of her father. The pencil passed over every line in his face, over each wrinkle, the crows feet by his eyes that he'd acquired from years of laughing. His eyes, expressive and friendly, a quality she remembered from before he went blind. Claire traced the wide, open-mouthed grin etched on his face, smiling back at her own father. She missed him a whole lot, now that she was years into the past; out of his reach.

"Who's tha'?"

Claire jumped at the sound of a voice behind her, coming from her left shoulder. Quickly spinning around in her seat, Claire came face to face with a quite noticably curious Ringo. She heaved a sigh of relief and smiled at the man. Claire scooted over in her seat, moving to the side and then motioning for Ringo to join her on the sofa.

As he sat, Claire passed him the drawing, "tha'...is my da'..."

" 'e certainly seems very 'appy," he pointed out as he inspected her choice of shading.

"I's 'ow I like to remember 'im as anyway. 'E's not always smiling, y'know," Claire gazed wistfully at her father's face.

Ringo didn't bother saying anything in reply, deciding to leave some thoughts unsaid. He examined the drawing for a minute longer and then, in the tired late night silence that hung around them like a veil, Ringo handed the pad of paper back to Claire. His body hit the back of the sofa with a small noise of clothing rubbing against textile.

"What are ye still doin' up at this 'our," he unquired, softly breaking the spell of silence, " not tha' I'm much to speak anyway..."

Claire, having taken back the drawing, began to trace more lines with the black ink pen and then responded to him after a second of thoughtfulness, "I suppose I jus' wasn' all tha' tired after the concert...I'm tryin' to tire meself out by doin' somethin' at least."

"Well then, I'll stay and keep ye some company while I'm 'ere," he stated, not waiting for any protests.

Claire shrugged at this, seeing as it was his sleep and his choice. By now she had obviously finished her work and was just stalling by thickening some lines. An idea struck her mind, showing on her face in the form of an 'eureka!' kind of thing.

"Would ye mind if I drew ye, Duckie?" Claire asked eagerly.

The man nodded his head 'yes' just as a happy little smile formed on his face. Ringo began to dramatically turn and tilt his head, altering his expression every time. This whole discourse drew melodious laughs from Claire's chest, reverberating across the sitting room's walls. But eventually he did sit down normally and let the girl get on with it. His position was actually very relaxed and natural as if he didn't even know she was putting his features to paper with the black pen swirling in her right hand.

Ringo silently spoke after a good few minutes of careful concentration, "I don' think anyone's ever really sat down and jus' drawn me. Maybe Klaus...y'know, Klaus Voormann, 'e's a friend of our's from Germany. 'e might've drawn me sometime, but I don' think I've ever jus' sat down with someone an' 'ad them draw me..."

Claire raised her eyebrows towards him, "Well why not? Ye 'ave really interesting facial features, perfect for portrait making and such..."

"Oh yea? 'cause of me nose is it? The thing tha's the size of a bloody fist on me face? Now yer jus' mockin me, aren' ye, luv?" he questioned with a humouros laugh, slightly mockingly and very sarcastically.

Claire laughed along and then she suddenly stopped and stared him dead in the eyes, "yes."

The two sat for two more beats and then promptly burst into a loud fit of ruckous laughter. They heard a shout coming from one of the other's rooms, presumably Paul's, delivering the kind messaged of 'shut the bloody 'ell up'. This, of course, only caused their laughter to grow in volume, annoying McCartney even further.

Slowly their laughter died down, "so, tell me about yer da', what can ye even remember?"

"Well, I think I already told ye tha' 'e was a musician when 'e was younger...or at least 'e tried to be. 'e didn' really get far 'cause my mother became pregnant with me and 'e 'ad to put it all on 'old to take care of all of us," Claire trailed off a little, as if thinking back to a memory.

Ringo cut through her pensiveness, "wow...an' wha' abou' yer mum? Ye 'aven' talked about 'er at all..."

"Oh..." Claire looked back at the paper and traced lines aimlessly, "she passed away when I was eight...she an' my da' had been on a date and were driving 'ome when they got into an accident...they said she died on the way to the 'ospital..."

Ringo sat speechless and deathly still, he dared ask a question on his mind, "wha'...wha' 'appened to yer da'?"

" 'e was taken to the 'ospital and as time went by 'e eventually lost 'is hearing..." Claire was looking down at her hands that were fidling with the pen.

This time Ringo didn't speak and instead he waited for her to continue, if she even would. A minute, then two and then three passed in silence, making Ringo realize that he should maybe somehow save the atmosphere. He put an arm around Claire, drawing her in for a hug which the girl greatfully accepted. The two sat like that for a while, soaking in the warmth.

And once they did pull away, Claire went back to drawing Ringo's portrait. The man began to tell her about his own life, things that only family and friends knew, stuff that press just weren't told about.

"Y'know me name isn't actually Ringo, right? It's actually-"

"-Richard Starkey, yes I know, Rings..." Claire cut him off, not even removing her eyes from the paper, like she already knew his every feature without looking.

"Oh...well, did ye also know tha' I am an only child in me family? Or tha' I used to get really sick as a kid and very often so?" he sported and expression as if he'd just finally beaten her at her own game.

Claire decided to let him have this one at least, Ringo continued to speak, "Tha's actually where I began to first play the drums. We, the kids at the 'ospital, were given little sorta drums and, y'know, told to play this thin' when the nurse says this or another thin' when she says tha'. It was great fun, really..."

The girl would look up and see an exptession of pure enjoyment flitting across Ringo's face as he told his stories. She tried to put some of that enthusiasm on the paper, a futile attempt at capturing Ringo Starr's wonderful sunfilled smile.

"...I actually only joined the Beatles in '62 y'know...before me they 'ad this guy named Pete Best as their drummer. Bloody git wasn't really all that good on drums, but the girls sure liked 'im a lot, real handsome and all tha'...when they 'ad Brian tellin' 'im that 'e was out of the band, the fans really disliked me and we even got beat up after the gig. Now tha' was 'orrible, tha' was...I'm not sure if people even really like me now, I mean, I certainly get the least attention, bein' 'jus' the drummer'..."

Claire stared bewildered at him, her mouth agape with disbelief, "Ringo. Don' ye say tha'! Yer a bloody fantastic drummer, best one I've seen...and yer great at singin' and I've seen pictures of tha' Best guy, 'e looks like a bloody arse, 'e does. Ye look sweet, accurately so, and yer very 'andsome as well, tha' Pete guy 'as nothin' on ye...besides...don' ye dare tell the other's but yer actually objectively the coolest beatle."

Ringo stared at her, not quite finding the words immediately, they came to him after a second or two, "...but I've got this big ol' nose tha' everyone always laughs at, I'm bloody short, jus' barely taller than ye, and I'm always in the background...I'm not 'the cute beatle', 'the smart beatle' or 'the quiet/mysterious beatle', I'm jus'...I'm jus' Ringo, the drummer...some title tha' is..."

He spoke with disdain for his role in the group, feeling a tad useless or rather unappreciated. Claire frowned deeply at the sight of Ringo putting himself down. She didn't feel this was earned, on the contrary, Claire considered him to be very great, very important and all that.

Now it was her turn to embrace him in a hug, make him feel better. And feel better he did. Ringo soon sat up straighter, shrugging away all those nasty thoughts he had.

"Ringo, don' ye dare say such 'orrible things abou' yerself, alright?! So what if there are some arses out there who say bad things? Yer family loves ye, yer friends love ye and I love ye, okay?! We all might tease ye, but i's all jus' shite we say fer laughs anyway..." Claire patted his back and kissed his cheek as she pulled away from the embrace.

Ringo looked at the rings on his fingers, a light pink blush coating his cheeks. Meanwhile, Claire was scribbling a few last things on the paper. It hadn't taken her long at all to draw him, seeing as she wasn't a serious artist and just made more of a doodle out of him than an actual portrait.

Claire captured Ringo's attention when she was done with the paper. She now carefully ripped it out of the bindings and handed it to the man sitting next to her. He silently read over what she had written down, his smile growing with every syllable. The words written were one's of encouragement and admirement coming straight from Claire's heart. She had truly always admired Ringo as a musician and a person, finding him very calm, funny, friendly and kind.

"Wow, thank ye so much, Claire! I'll always 'ang on to this, I'll look a' it when I'm feeling down or just missin' ye..." the brightness of his smile could've replaced the Moon in the sky or even outshined the Sun itself.

As he sat there gazing at the drawing with the happiest expression, something was still nagging at Claire. She felt nasty for having lied to them all, especially Ringo, about who she was and where she was from. Claire considered telling him the truth. What was the big deal if all four of the Beatles (and maybe Brian) knew about her? Maybe it would even be better that way, they could help her and John with getting her back and keeping her low profile until they do.

"Hey, uhmm...Ringo?" she spoke after having made a decision.

"Yea?" the man responded a bit absentmindedly due to him still being in the prcess of admiring Claire's handywork.

Claire drew in the smallest breath, it hitching in her throat nervously, "We are friends, righ'?"

He only nodded as an answer, casting his eyes at her face for only a second or two. His ringed fingers passed over the intricate lines drawn on the not quite perfectly white paper with an inky black pen. Ringo had already looked at the hotel's logo and information that sat neatly in the middle top of the paper. He had probably done it four times or something.

"...And ye trust me, righ'?"

Her question drew his eyes away from the logo and to Claire's face yet again. Ringo nodded as a response yet again.

Claire twiddled her fingers nervously, already regretting her decision, maybe it wasn't too late to back out after all, "So if I told ye somethin' incredibly shocking tha' sounded unbelievable, bu' was actually true, ye would believe me?

Obviously Claire's mouth ploved on without her brain's consent and she soon heard Ringo's slightly confused voice, "I mean sure, I guess..."

"And ye wouldn' think I'm batshit crazy?"

He paused to think for a moment, "Well unless ye tell me ye're from the Moon or yer actually a mermaid or sommat..."

"Oh...oh, well le's see then.. uhmmm I..." Claire was begining to seriously question whether or not she should go on at all.

Ringo didn't wait for her after she had trailed off, "Well...are ye nervous? Oh no...did-did ye lie when ye said ye weren' crazy a fan jus' tryin' to meet us? Do...do ye even 'ave amnesia?!"

Obviously he was getting nervous, thinking they'd all messed up and let themselves get fooled by this girl. John especially, since he was the one letting her sleep in his bed with him. Ringo's mind immediately went to the worst conclussions. Claire, however, stayed quiet for a few seconds...

"Oh! Oh God! Ye are, aren' ye?! Oh God, oh God, oh God!!!" he was freaking out completely, his eyes wide, looking even larger than usual.

Claire tried saving the situation to her best ability, "No, no, no! Rings, wait! It's only half true, what ye accused me of...what I said abou' me bein' a fan was all true...but..."

"But..." he urged her to go on with the explanation.

She sighed deeply, truly the girl had backed herself into a corner, "But I don' 'ave amnesia...I think I know exactly what 'appened...I mean, there isn' any other explanation..."

"An' what would tha' be?"

"Rings..." Claire began softly, looking into his big and bright blue eyes that sparkled with untamed curiosity, "I'm from the future..."

"Oh..." was all he could managed at the moment, right after that bombshell.

A stupefied expression settled on the girl's face, "Oh? What do ye mean 'oh'?! 'ow are ye so casual abou' this?"

Ringo shrugged, not having an answer at all. He twisted the ring on his right hand pinky finger.

"Do ye even believe me?!"

"I do, Birdie, I do..." Ringo spoke incredibly softly, his blue-eyed gaze having a calming effect on Claire's mind.

But she still had to ask, "Wha'? Why?!"

"Ye're me friend...I trust ye wouldn' lie an' besides ye've been actin' pretty strange this whole time...now tha' I know ye're from the future it kinda makes sense I guess..." he explained with another shrug of his t-shirt clad shoulders.

Claire stared thoughtfully at the coffee table in front of them, "Wow..."

Ringo's hand slid into her's, intertwining their fingers. His thumb rubbed her knuckles and their eyes met, his trying to communicate that it was all right. Claire couldn't help but hug him when he was being so sweet to her by understanding and accepting her situation. They stayed like that for moments longer, until Claire finally began to pull away.

"Does anyone else know?" he felt the obligation to ask.

The girl bit her lip slightly, she noticed that her hands were still held in his, "...John does.. tha's why 'e's been so inviting and all tha'...doubt 'e would've cared much at all if I 'adn't told 'im."

"Oh!" he exclaimed upon hearing her confession, "Should've known...'e wouldn't 'ave fought Bri like tha' for any other bird...though I thought 'e was jus' takin the piss...y'know, Lennon style..."

The pair laughed slightly, the mood having been lifted greatly, "Anyways, I think I should go 'ave a kip...ye should as well..."

A yawn inadvertantly escaped the girl, "Yea...see ye in the mornin'!"

He had let go of her hand, a tad reluctantly though. It was then replaced by a hug, Claire placing a small kiss on Ringo's cheek. The smiles on both of their faces reached their eyes, showing off the crow's feet.

And just like that, they left for their respective bedrooms. Claire eventually creeped into bed, John immediately wrapping himself around her. She fell asleep and dreamed of the night when she went to a party and first met her now ex-boyfriend Teddy. An uninvited tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the white pillow supporting her head. Claire tried to convince herself to forget about him. Obviously he didn't need her and, so, she didn't need him as well.


	5. Eight Days a Week

Another day came, the sun rising from the outskirts of the town, and the Beatles, as well as all the people associated with them, were making their way over to another city. It had been an early wake for everyone, leaving them as sleepy messes on the train.

Currently the four Beatles plus Claire were sat together in a compartment. No conversation was exchanged for the longest time. Ringo sat leaning against George who, in turn, was leaned against the window. Paul's head hung back against the headrest, his mouth open and breaths escaping him quite audibly. Claire was sat by the window seat, John clinging to her like a koala bear. The man was wrapped around her in a seemingly impossible way, the way his body had bent to suit Claire's position, while retaining maximum comfyness, was incredible yet horrifying in a way. It might be atributed to, as Ringo would put it, his fabulous loose hips. Usually John would just sit with one leg all the way up to his shoulders and the other on the ground or something. Frankly he looked like a bizzare circus attraction.

Everyone had by now noticed how attached, both figuratively and literally, John had become to Claire. It was obvious in the way that he would always make sure she's there, that she's alright and how he just had to be touching her in some way, mostly just falling asleep and wrapping his body around her. Those who saw this found it a tad strange that he, of all people, had taken such a quick liking to her. Most of the time Lennon might've seemed a bit condescending or unreachable by others. Though, most also knew that that was not actually the case and that John was quite nice and caring if you just got on his good side.

It was later when the group of five began to stir again, waking up better and only slightly more rested. Ringo and George sat up straighter, fixing their hair in the window's reflection. Paul was trying to sneakily wipe away the small amount of drool on the corner of his mouth. Claire, though, was busy looking pleadingly at the others, begging them to help get the sleeping John off of her. John seemed to be snoozing blisfully, an unwakeable force.

The other beatles didn't do much to help, only laughing at how Claire seemed to be the one to constantly get stuck with a sleeping John. George and Ringo laughed and joked about how the man clung to her. Paul, however, didn't seem as amused as the rest, his face displayed a small frown. He looked away quickly though, distracting himself by counting the stripes on a suitcase.

Claire was trying to wake the man that was wrapped around her, she prodded and called to him but he stayed sleeping just the same. Paul was gradually becoming more irritated at the whole scene in the train compartment. George and Ringo giggling like a bunch of annoying schoolgirls. And Claire almost babytalking John to wake up. As Paul grew more annoyed, he ended up just kicking John's shin. This was the final thing, the last one needed in the pile of efforts, and John woke up. He startled awake, falling down to the floor and bringing Claire with him.

The girl gathered herself and sat back into her seat, glancing down at John. He sat there, blinking a bit dazedly, confused at what had just occured. When some sort of realization dawned on him, John faced Paul with an indignant expression lining his features.

"Scoundrel!" he exclaimed at McCartney, "Betrayed! What disgusting treachery! Forsaken by me own best friend no less! 'ow could ye?!"

"Well ye wouldn' wake yer arse up and I decided to 'elp Claire luv a little bit," Paul smiled in the strangest way, a kind of grin none of them had coaxed out of the man in a long time.

John replied with a sarcastically sweet grin and took his seat next to Ringo, where he had a good view of both Paul and Claire, "well, Macca, yer choice of action isn't exactly preferable now is it?"

"Claire doesn' seem to be complainin', so why should ye?" Paul raised his already arched eyebrow even further, it disappearing into his fringe completely.

"I mean, it got the job done I suppose," the girl shrugged innocently.

"Anyroad, keep in mind tha' I was the one gettin' kicked in me shin by Paulie's big ol' stinky feet..." John not feeling very content in his seat, switched to sit between Paul and Claire.

Paul could be heard mumbling an almost incoherent 'me feet aren' tha' big' under his breath. John chuckled at his friend and threw his arm across his shoulders, tickling his ear in the process. He was making an attempt at clearing up the atmosphere with his usual antics. When Paul let a small giggle flow past his lips and swatted the man away, John knew he'd succeeded in alleviating some tension.

The five sat back in their seats, enjoying the slightly bumpy ride in the train. Claire and George were both busy with watching the scenery zip by in colorful blurs. They would occasionally glance at one another and pull a goofy face or something. Ringo had found a newspaper lying around and decided to read it to pass some time. And Paul and John were busy in their own little world. It was like a bubble had formed around them and they couldn't hear a single thing beyond each other. They talked songs and ideas they'd had, John sharing some poetry he'd had in his head for a few days. Paul would hum a tune that kept insistantly ringing in his mind.

The bubble was somewhat broken when George took out a pack of cigarettes and began to light one. John immediatley snatched it away, snuffing it out on the nearby ashtray.

"John!"

"C'mon, Geo, we talked abou' this! Ye shouldn' be smoking. None of us should actually!" everyone was left to stare at the wild-eyed man.

George heaved a great big sigh and handed John the pack of cigarettes. The others were left to watch the exchange. Paul and Ringo did find it quite strange but to be fair they were also quite used to John's constant antics. Claire, however, wasn't having any of it. She knew George would get cancer later on in his life, most probably from all the smoking he'd done. It was very suspicious to her and she decided to talk to John about this.

"Hey, uhmm, John, could I 'ave a word with ye outside?" Claire glanced at him through her eyelashes.

John's face formed a strange expression, closely resembling confusion and a deer in the headlights. He silently followed her outside and then to somewhere more private. Many thoughts were racing through both of their minds. John wondering what could she possibly want to speak to him about, seeing as her tone or face wasn't exactly happy or anything. Claire's mind was swarming with the possiblities of why John had stopped George in particular. She hoped to every god that it was simply a coincidence or something.

"Alrigh', John, wha' was tha' all abou'? Why'd ye stop George like tha'?" the anxiety was obviously leaking through Claire's voice.

Now John definitely looked like he was caught stealing cookies from the jar, "I...I-uh...ye said ye didn' smoke so I figured ye wouldn' appreciate Geo's smoke in the air tha' ye breathe..."

The uncertainty in his voice wasn't entirely undetectable and Claire fixed him with an unbelieving look. John was beggining to crumble under her gaze, his eyes falling to look at the pattern on her dress.

"Y'know..." he dared look up and then immediately he looked away again, "...I've 'eard tha' it can cause cancer as well...I'don' want Geo to die because of somethin' so bloody stupid! Y'know wha' if 'e doesn't live past 58! Ye told me so anyway..."

That's what gave him away, "John...wha' wha' are ye talking abou'?"

"Wha'? I...nothin', just a very specific example is all..." he tried to save himself after that slip of tongue, but ended up only confirming it for Claire.

"How...how do you know abou' tha'?"

"I-uh...ye told me tha' night when we all got drunk...I...I asked ye a few questions and ye were so out of it tha' ye didn' 'ave a filter on wha' ye were sayin'... and ye sorta told me abou' Geo's death..."

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh my fucking God! No, no, no!" Claire was hyperventilating by now, grasping her hair between her fingers, wild-eyed and franctic, "John! Wha' am I supposed to do now?!"

"Luv, luv it's alrigh'..." John's arms found their way around Claire, hoping to soothe the freaked out girl.

Claire's hands were pushed against his chest, squeezed between their bodies, she looked up at him, tears building in her distressed eyes, "wha' else did I say?"

Silence greeted her in a most unpleasant way, her eyes widening in response, "John? What did I tell ye?!"

"Well ye talked abou' 'ow we stayed as a band until 1970 and tha' we were very nasty abou' it too..." John trailed off, Claire wasn't thick, she knew that there was more but the man was struggling to get it out.

She gave him a look as if to say 'go on'. He tried for a second to pretend like he hadn't anything more to say. Claire was having none of it after all and this prompted John to spill.

"...okay and ye mentioned tha' I...uhhh...tha' I-oh God! Tha' I also died..." he spat the last part out quite harshly.

"Did-did I tell ye 'ow and when it 'appened?"

"Uhh...ye said I got shot in me back, but ye didn' say anythin' abou' when or any other specifics..." John explained bashfully for some reason.

"Oh my sweet lord! John, I'm so sorry abou' that! That must've been why ye got so piss drunk, right?"

He didn't respond but Claire didn't need words to know that she was right in her assumption. John continued to hold her there for a few seconds longer until she was completely calmed down from her little breakdown.

The two began to head back to the compartment, realizing that they'd been away for quite a while and the rest of the Beatles might begin to wonder about them. On the way John was well on his way to again bring the mood to the heights that didn't inherently make him as uncomfortable as this does.

"Ye also told me something quite interesting, luv..." the smuggest smirk was proudly perched on his small thin lips and Claire wanted nothing more than to get rid of it.

"Hmmm? Like wha'? Did I tell ye me favorite type of tea is jasmine? Oh 'ow shocking!" Claire playfully rolled her eyes and John jogged to walk backwards in front of her.

"Oh no, actually ye told me yer favorite beatle was dear ol' George. Which, to be honest, I don' completely understand..."

"Oh really? 'ow's tha'?" Claire cocked an eyebrow as a response.

John pretended to ponder her question and then answered it in the most fake way possible for this 5ft 10 enigma of a man, "I would've thought I was yer favorite wha' with 'ow I've been lettin' ye stay an' all tha'..."

'That smug bastard!' was the one thought zigzagging through Claire's brain. John just grinned brighter than the Sun itself, he surely seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Oh! So is tha' why ye've been so nice? And to think, 'ere I was thinkin' John Lennon was actually a decent person after all!" Claire constructed a look of disbelief and exasperation on her face.

"Dammit! Ye've caught on to me masterplan! Now it's all ruined! In shambles! 'ow could ye do this?!" John raised a hand over his forehead like some overly dramatic romance novel lady.

Claire burst into laughter, stopping in the middle of the train's tiny hallway and doubling over with pure joy. John couldn't help himself and let his own strange cackle ring through the small space. As the two stood in place, laughing their heads off and effectively blocking the way, a very disgruntled man tried to pass them only to be stopped by these two 'hooligans'. The man did push past them, grumbling about 'the youth these days! Such delinquents!' or something along those lines.

"But abou' tha' George being yer favorite thing...ye can be sure, Claire luv, I'll be tryin' me very best to change tha'!"

"Sure," Claire rolled her eyes and just pushed forwards on her way to their compartment where the rest were (hopefully) waiting diligently on them.

John opened the door for them and immediately plopped right down in the nearest seat. He didn't even really take notice of the fact that Paul was the only one there besides John and Claire. When Claire asked about it, Paul simply told her that the other two left to get some food or something. John and Claire took that explanation and just sat in their seats, waiting for the time to go by.

"So...wha' did ye two talk abou', hmmm?" Paul curiously raised an already arched eyebrow.

John shifted so that he could face Paul and poked his leg with his foot, "none yer business, Paulie."

Paul's lips settled into a small frown, as he grimaced, "charming. I guess ye get all the birds to fall fer ye by bein' such a fooking dick..."

"More birds than ye can, Macca!" John was laughing through this.

To him this wasn't anything serious and he doubted that it was for Paul. They would often do this, bicker for a small moment and then dissolve into boysterous laughter. Paul wasn't able to withold himself for much longer, not when John was grinning at him and laughing like a delusional weirdo. And then there sat Claire, watching the most accomplished songwritting partnership in music history laugh at the most ridiculous things. She watched with a fond grin on her cheeks. The small voice in her head still told her that this entire experience had to be some kind of dream or whatever. But quite frankly even if it was, Claire did not wish to wake up.

The train slowly rolled into the station of whichever city they were in. Frankly, it was getting a bit hard to keep track. The five of them exchanged a look of confusion, disbelief and fear when they heard the screams already coming from within the station. The four beatles gulped not ready to be mobbed when they unavoidably exit their train.

Brian came around to gather them all up. Once by the unopened train door, the Beatles looked outside only to be greeted by mushed and yet still screaming faces of hysterical teenage girls pressed against the glass. Once they had noticed their four idols appear by the door, they began to try and pry it open.

The five shared horrified looks, hoping that police would be around to make sure none of the girls try to take any of the Beatles home as souvenirs. They would rather not end up encased in glass at some 14 year-old's bedroom. Thankfully soon enough the police did show up and began to make a path through for them the sea of teens.

Ringo and George went first, they were followed by Paul and John, leaving Claire in the back with Brian. At first all the girls only took notice of the four beatles, screaming and grabbing at them. They were being shoved around as they desperately tried to quickly get to their designated car. The worst was when the pressure was so great that they were all forced to walk single file. Claire was left at the very back and once the deranged fans noticed that this girl was with the Beatles, they began to try and drag her down.

The girls seemed to get angry at Claire for being anywhere near 'their boys'. They stuck out their hands, tugging and pulling on her hair, scratching at her arms and trying to push her to the ground. They rammed against the policemen so as to get them to bump into Claire, effectively knocking her down on the ground. And this almost worked, she was being left behind as Brian, who was ahead of her, pushed forward to get to the car. Claire actually did get shoved to the ground, she tried catching herself by clutching one of the policemen. It barely helped and Claire fell to the ground in a heap. She managed to get back on her feet and began to try and get to Brian and the boys but the policemen, thinking she was just another fan, held her back.

Claire began to feel like she was drowning again, the vast ammounts of girls making it suffocating to be in the middle of all of this. Just as she began to lose hope, two large hands picked her right up from the crowd and ran quickly to the car. As she was stuffed in the backseat along with others, Claire could finally take notice that John had come and plucked her out of the crowd of screeching teens and brought her into safety. She clutched him in an effort to regain some sense of safety.

Claire drew ragged breaths, her nails digging into John's forearms and staring into his eyes for some sort of comfort as the car drove away from the scene. John tried to soothe her by rubbing circles on her arm, Paul tried to put a warm hand on her as well, noticing that she was shaking. As soon as he did, Claire flinched and turned her head to Paul in fear. The man quickly retracted his hand as if burned, looking alarmed at Claire's reaction. When she saw that it was just Paul, Claire's expression softened and she returned her gaze to John. His warm chestnut eyes were filled with a wonderful emotion that just made Claire's mind calm down and see that she was no longer in the frenzied crowd.

The car moved forward and Claire eventually settled down, John keeping one arm around her, rubbing circles in her arm. It was then that they finally arrived at the hotel and thankfully there were no crazies waiting for them there. Obviously no fans yet knew that the Beatles would be staying at this hotel.

Once upstairs, the six of them sat around the sitting room, taking in what had almost happened. Their eyes would linger on Claire, only to find that she had scratches on her arms, her hair obviously disheveled from all the pulling and a bit of a bruise forming on each knee from where she fell. A heavy frown was set on everyone's faces, even Brian was concerned for the girl's wellbeing.

"Mis Claire, I think it'd be safer if from now on ye didn't leave a place with the boys but rather walked a few paces behind them with me," Brian suggested rationally.

Paul's head popped up, giving Brian an incredulous look, "Bri, no! She can walk with us! We don't mind, right boys?"

The other three nodded along with him in agreement. Brian frowned and George handed Claire a cup of camomile tea.

"The question isn't wether you boys want her to come with you, but a question of safety. You all saw how those fans were, they almost ripped Claire to bits!" Brian tried to reason.

When none of the four beatles spoke, Brian continued with his spiel, "If she walks with me a few feet away from you, then the girls will assume that she's not here with you, therefore they will not try to hurt her. Boys, think about it, what if one day none of you are there to save Claire and all those girls gang up on her. They could be really dangerous and you know that!"

The four stayed silent, knowing that Brian was right, he always was, "and look at her now, do you want her to get so disheveled every time we go out? Her getting hurt would be on you not wishing to part with her for just a few minutes until we're all safe. And I would be there with her, she wouldn't be left behind."

John looked at Brian with a contradiction ready in his eyes, "what abou' today? Ye we're walkin' with 'er, ye we're supposed to keep an eye out! If ye couldn't keep 'er from getting 'urt today, then what makes ye think ye'll be able to do so in the future?!"

"It was a mistake, John. I apologise for that, Claire, I will try to do better in the future," the man apologised to Claire, with a sincere expression on his face.

Claire blushed at being treated so well by Brian, she was glad he didn't see her as an awful tramp or something terrible like that.

"No it's okay, Mr. Epstein, it was a first time, we're all only human and we can all learn from our mistakes," she smiled softly at him, greatful for the apology.

John sighed and leaned back in his seat. The others kept quiet after that, not finding it in them to argue with Brian when his argument was so solid.

Claire broke the silence just then, "if it's any 'elp I agree with Mr. Epstein, I don' think me walking with the rest of ye will be any good for me 'ealth..."

"Well, then it's settled!"

It's a bit later that Brian requests a word alone with Claire. She enters his room and joins him on the sofa.

"Mis Claire-"

"Please jus' call me Claire, Mis Claire makes me feel like I'm in a Jane Austen book," the girl explained with a small apologetic smile.

"Yes...alright," Brian responded with a smile of his own, "well then I suppose you should call me by my name and not makes this too formal."

Claire nodded happily, glad that she seemed to finally be making some progress in getting on Epstein's good side, despite the slightly unpleasant manner that they first met in.

"But more on the topic, I wish to speak to you about some work I'd like you to do. You see, I myself am getting increasingly more busy with all the paperwork involved in running the Beatles. I could use some help with this and I think that you would be the perfect contender. You wouldn't have to do all the work of course, only some of it. Would that be alright?" Brian inquired.

Claire's eyes widened, "of course! Ye're letting me stay with you all until I can find me way 'ome! The least I could do is a little paperwork in return."

"Very good. I'm very happy to hear that. I'll be bringing the papers around to your and John's room every Thursday and you'll have to get it done by Saturday evening," Brian explained as he curled his fingers together, putting them underneath his chin.

He seemed to be debating whether or not he should say something that he had in mind. As Claire was about to just excuse herself from the room, Brian began to speak his mind.

"Claire, in risk of sounding accusing, what are your intentions with the Beatles?" Brian spoke cautiously.

"I don't have any intentions really. They're good guys, they're taking good care of me while I try to get back home. I think that's all," Claire explained genuinely.

Brian quirked an eyebrow, unfolding his hands and letting them drop to his lap, "I think it's very obvious that they have taken a strong liking to you, Claire. Don't take their trust for granted and don't hurt them, they're my boys and it's my job to keep an eye over them as we do this whole tour thing."

"Of course."

Claire left Brian's room after that, heading to the Beatles' suite. She thought his words over in her head. Ringo was loudly discussing tonight's concert with Paul in the kitchen area when she stepped in to take an apple for herself.

"Am I invited to this concert as well?" She asked them teasingly, with an amused grin on her cheeks.

"Why luv, yer the guest of honor!" Ringo exclaimed, almost prancing up to her as if she was a magnet and had drawn him in.

The girl raised an eyebrow and Paul strutted up to her as well, leaning way too much into her personal space, the grin on his face was something to behold, however "Rings is right y'know, if yer not there tonight, then what's even the point of 'aving a concert at all!"

Ringo rolled his large crystal-like blue eyes, "Paul yer doin' it again."

McCartney only scoffed as a response and tried to retain maximum eye contact with the girl. He was desperate for attention, especially from Claire. He'd always been this way, needing attention and aprooval from those who he deemed most important or signifficant in his life. These people were basically John, his dad, his idols and now Claire was added to that list of people. Mostly the reason behind him wanting Claire was because John liked her so much. It was always like a competition between them, except John didn't seem to really be competing this time. If John hadn't really cared much for Claire, Paul wouldn't be half as interested as he is now, which certainly says something about him.

The six piled into the car and rode off to the concert, during which Claire was tasked with taking photos and writing a small report on it. At the end of if, the four beatles plus Claire gathered in the dressing room. The boys were fooling around with little discarded trinkets in the small room.

" 'Ey, John, I've always wondered, why do ye stand the way ye do on stage, y'know, all bow-legged? Is it like a power stance, to assert yer dominance or sommat?" Claire wondered aloud.

As the three beatles burst into laughter, John didn't know how to respond for a split second, "no, it's to show off 'ow unmovable I am. Ye can't throw me off the stage, not unless ye use a tank...or a tractor!"

"Right," George rolled his eyes at the response, "jus' last week Paul knocked ye over when ye weren' lookin' an' 'e bumped into ye!"

"Shuddup! I wasn' in me 'power stance', I was vulnerable an' Macca rudely used it against me," John tried reasoning.

The hotel greeted them with open arms, letting the boys wind down for a small moment after a concert for hundreds if not thousands of screaming girls had blown their ears out. They each took a shower as Claire read news in the paper. Honestly she had missed having to read a newspaper for news. It was there for most of her childhood but nowadays or more like, in 2018 she used her phone and computer to look at news...among other things.

Once the four lads were all done they came around to Claire and coaxed her into another one of their escapades. At first she complained that Brian would not take lightly to this but then she realized that that was probably the point. The four beatles wanted to go out for drinks and have some fun at a pub. Claire did agree though, might as well have some fun once in a while. Although to be fair, this whole 'Beatles' experience was already as fun as it was mind-boggling.

The Beatles themselves put on a bit of a disguise for when they sneak out of the hotel, no one wanted to ruin their night by being recognized by fans. And the five soon stumbled into a nice little pub down the road from the hotel. Seeming like masters of their craft, Ringo, John and Paul immediately beelined for the bar and ordered themselves their favorites. George and Claire were left to their own accord. And they followed shortly, setting themselves up with drinks as well.

Geo and Claire sat by the bar and watched as John and Ringo challenged two other guys to see who would drink who under the table first. But weirdly enough they didn't really see Paul anywhere, the two brushed it off, however, believing him to be in the loo or something. Claire and George had made the decision that they'd be better off if they stuck with one another since they shared way less alcohol between the two of them. And so they spent an hour or so just sitting by the bar, cradling their drinks, swapping stories and laughing loudly.

"...and I swear I can still 'ear 'er yellin' at me to this day, sayin, "ye good fer nothin' lil' cunt! Ye won't grow to be proper if ye sneak around with boys like tha'!" She 'as to be the most conceited an' hypocritical hag I've ever met!" Claire finished with a burst of laughter as she recounted the story of the short time during whuch she was sent to a boarding school by her grandmother.

George wheezed with laughter, his eyes crinkling and his teeth shining in the dim lighting of the pub, "oh lord! I think I need teh use the loo after tha'!"

With that George was off to the restroom, leaving Claire to finish her drink, a leftover smile still present on her cheeks, her eyes shining with mirth. Just as she was about to order another drink for herself, a man suddenly came up and leaned against the bar in front of her. She could smell the stench of alcohol wafting strongly from the man. The fact that she could smell it from her seat was disgustingly incredible since the smells of the bar were all pretty strong and would've otherwise masked the alcohol smell.

" 'ello luv, ye seem teh be pretty lonely all bye yerself aye?" a sleazy grin played on his face, "how bow we go back somewhere an' find a quiet lil' corner just fer the two of us ey?"

His finger had reached upward and tried to flit across her cheek only stopped by Claire reaching up and crushing them in her hold as a warning to the guy. She really did not appreciate him coming onto her, particularly now when he was so obviously drunk off his arse. But sadly the guy didn't seem to quite get the memo, taking it as a good response and moving closer into her personal space. Claire shuddered at the stench now so thickly enveloping her.

Just then George returned and noticed the girl's obvious discomfort and began to tell the guy off, "oi! Mate she's clearly not into ye, take a hint and fook off!"

The man didn't take scrawny lil' George's threaths seriously, scoffing at him and turning back to Claire who had had enough by this point.

"Would ye actually fook right off, ye prick! Ye stink like the bloody bottom of a rubish bin. I don' like ye and I will not be goin' anywhere with ye! So ye can pack up yer pet flies and leave, ye 'orrible cunt!" Claire drew herself as far back as she could and fixed the man with a bitchy stare.

Some other patrons of the pub had taken notice of the unfolding scene and were now staring directly at them. The drunk guy looked about as embarrased as one could, having been told off by a girl. Claire supposed that most girls didn't really swear quite as much nor did they act so bitchy in fear of not being liked by those who's attention they oh so craved.

The man slinked away like a wimp, embarrased and all. Just as he left, John and Ringo stumbled over to George and Claire.

"Wha' 'appened 'ere? Are ye alrigh', Claire? Did 'e manage to do anythin'?" John questioned feverishly, ever the one to worry about her wellbeing.

Claire rolled her eyes at the highly intoxicated John and Ringo, "no, John, 'e didn' do anythin', I took care of it."

"Yea! We saw tha'! Ye bloody put his arse right in place...ye were the most badarse bird I've ever seen!" Ringo raved to Claire, his eyes shining with excitement, clearly proud of her.

"Oh please! 'E's 'ardly the first absolutely pissed guy I've 'ad to deal with 'itting on me at a pub..." Claire explained carefully.

The two eventually stayed there with George and Claire, not ordering a drink so as to avoid having a massive hangover the next morning. A small one was guaranteed but there was hardly any need for a huge one though.

"Ey, where's Paul? The rest of us are 'ere and 'e's the only one not...here," Claire questioned after noticing his absence.

"Oh we spotted 'im snogging some blonde bird somewhere 'round 'ere..." Ringo mentioned in response.

Claire frowned at that, "oh...well...good for 'im I s'pose."

The rest of the night was spent with the three beatles that were there with her. She danced with each of them several times, having a whole lot of fun along the way. Of course the dancing wasn't anything good whatsoever, it was mostly just drunkenly flailing limbs, leaning against one another during the slower songs and the like.

Claire really tried to ignore that slightly sour taste in her mouth when she thinks back to Paul snogging some girl he just met. What causes is the fact that he can switch so quickly between women. She still remembered the little gestures and moments she'd had with Paul. Like back then in that train compartment when he was busying himself by kissing her hands like they were something to be worshipped. Claire was promptly reminded of the stories she'd heard from some of her more music history savvy friends. Apparently while on tours the Beatles would often sleep around with fans and the like. The worst thing being that they even had girlfriends at the time, so they had been literally cheating on their partners. Claire did not like to think of such things, not when she's having such great fun with them herself.

Somewhere down the line, the five did actually make it back to the hotel, much to Brian's displeasure. But hey! Atleast they'd all made it back safely!

Brian got some of his scolding in but eventually let the five just get to sleep, seeing as they were in no state to really listen to him. And sleep...they didn't. As soon as Brian left, the five recounted what had happened tonight, Paul being caught up to how Claire told a guy off and then spent the night dancing with Ringo, George and John. Paul blushed when his snog was mentioned and he even seemed like he wished he had also been with the others for the night. But this faded as quickly as it came.

They decided to go to sleep an hour later. No use in staying up if they were just gonna lounge around different places in the living area. And so each Beatle settled into their big and warm beds.

It was early morning, the sun just around the horizon, waiting to rise from it's slumber and greet the sleeping people of England. John Lennon found himself unable to fall asleep anymore and although the warmth of Claire's body was oh so inviting, he snuck out of the room for a smoke. Halfway to the balcony, wrapped up in a comforter, he recalled his promise to George that he would also quit if Geo did. Even if he wasn't smoking, John figured he'd look at the sunrise, get an early start on his day or something like that.

As he walked unto the balcony, he saw Ringo already leaning against the railing, just having finished a smoke. Ringo spun around upon hearing John open the door. He greeted him with a small smile as the two men stood over the slowly awakening city, admiring the crisp early morning air and the colour of the sky at this hour. They watched in silence for about ten minutes only interrupted when Ringo spoke.

"John...I...I know I only joined the band relatively recently and all tha'...and I know I'm always in the background as the drummer but...but am I really tha' insignifficant to this band as the papers say?" John's heart could've broken in two from the absolutely shattered look in Ringo's blue eyes.

Before John could say anything, Ringo spoke first, "and...and I know I'm not as good as ye and Paul are at singin' or writin' songs but would it be too much to ask fer ye to let me sing something as well? I...I wanna be important to this group, John, I don' want teh be replaced like Pete was when ye have no use fer me!"

John stood still, stunned to silenece, "Rings...we don't think yer replacable or that yer not imoprtant! Ye matter just as much as me, just as much as Paul and just as much as Geo! I...I get it tha' ye think tha' and I feel it's me an' Paul's fault...we...we just get so caught up in things, Ritchie, we don't mean to be such arses, really! I promise we'll try teh 'ave ye sing more, we might even 'ave some songs tha' would be perfect fer ye!"

John tried to be as good a friend as he could. The early morning atmosphere, the intimacy, the zero need for masks made John be genuine, to not hide or hold back. And thank God, Ringo seemed to relax at that, smiling his bright smile. It seemed to have beat the sun in the race to rise among the city.

A content silence fell again and, just like last time, was broken by one of them speaking.

John looked off into the distance, "it's all been so crazy lately...the fans, the tour, the concerts and the publicity...I always dreamed of this, of reaching such 'eights with music but now tha' it's 'ere it...I don' even know what teh do with it!"

Ringo nodded in agreement, "yea, I know wha' ye mean, Len. All of this 'as been a rush of cities, trains, concerts and everything inbetween...makes me wish for the good ol' days in 'amburg a little bit..."

John nodded thoughtfully to the statement, looking across the skyline for the umpteenth time, "...I think the craziest thing 'as been Claire...she just crashed right into our lives like somethin' I didn't realize we ever even needed..."

"Mhmm...it was so sudden and unexpected too. She jus' showed up outta nowhere one day didn' she?" Ringo said, almost prodingly, trying to get John to confess that, yes, he knew her little secret just as he did.

Ringo wasn't about to put that out in the open in case someone overheard them. But he also wanted to hear John say so that, it would certainly seem more real if he did. Honestly the possibility that she really, really was from the future seemed completely crazy and unbelievable, yet Ringo and John had no other choice but to trust her.

John just casually laughed it off, seeming like he did find it strange and didn't know anything at all. It kind of frustarted Ringo for the time being. The man heaved a great big sigh and turned his gaze onto the one or two people rushing along the street down below.

"Y'know I'm still glad that Claire did drop in on us though...it's been fun getting to know her, even if I do wish for her to find a way home to where she belongs..." another nod to Ringo knowing about the girl, but John, supposed to be very clever, didn't catch on though.

"Yeah, me too, Ritchie, me too...I...I also wish she'd find her way home..." his voice wasn't rather convincing on the last sentence, even John could tell that much.

He hoped Ringo hadn't detected it however. No need for the lad to start overthinking things, right? Right.

Another blanket of silence fell over the two as the sun finally rose in the sky, producing hues of pink, pale yellow, orange and a tiny splash of blue. It seemed that today would be pleasantly sunny, a rarity for England during March or spring in general for that matter. Maybe they'd be able to go to nice park or something and enjoy their day in peace. But with their scedule this was less likely than you'd think.

Once the sun was a fully round shape in the sky, Ringo clapped John on the back, gave him a small grin and headed back inside to catch up on some last few minutes of sleep. John couldn't help but to stay out a little longer, observing the world from the side. Seeing people awaken and open their curtains to greet a new day, watching them walk briskly down the street or get in a car, hurrying off to work. He found it a tad sad that most of the people in the streets couldn't even see the gorgeous sun rising right above their heads as the tall buildings towered over them, casting large imposing shadows. But that's what made him happier than them though, he was up here and he could see the sun, he could bask in it's golden rays.

When the brisk air had made the tip of his aquiline nose basically frozen, John decided to head back inside. Now after being in the still chilly March air, the thought of getting into a warm bed and cuddling up to Claire seemed like the best thing to exist in his life. He did just that, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, even if he was only able to sleep for a remainder of less than two hours.


	6. Do You Want To Know A Secret?

Now the next day brought a lot more excitement in a way. A lot more spilled secrets, that's for sure and a whole lotta questions arising in the minds of well, everyone...but mostly Paul and Geo. Let's take a few steps back shall we?

Yet another early morning for the Beatles and crew. Yet another train ride back to London. Exhaustion began to show more and more with each passing day. This morning Brian had come into the Beatles' rooms loudly telling them to get up and then explaining the schedule as the rest ate something that only mildly resembled eggs benedict. Apparently today would include an early interview with pushy reporters at a hotel. Then they'd have to attend a photoshoot for yet another magazine. After that Brian would be shuffling them all along to the studio to do work on a the next album. And only then, so, so many hours later, would the Beatles be able to go back to their homes in London.

The train ride went about the same way as it usually does, them all sitting in a compartment, sleeping for the first half, then goofing off, singing a few tunes and maybe grabbing a bite in the dining car. Paul had made it his business to sit by Claire, who sat by the window. He rushed in right after her, slamming himself into the seat next to Claire's. John came in afterward, usually being the one to sit by her and gave Paul a nasty little look. Paul simply smirked in satisfaction like a naughty schoolboy and eased himself more into the seat, John sitting next to him.

Honestly, Paul should've expected that John wouldn't let it go so easily, after all they were quite immature still. The latter man immediately kicked his legs up and rested them on Paul's lap. Although it looked uncomfortable, John's position was actually anything but. For some minutes he did his best to annoy Paul. But even John would eventually tire and fall into a quick slumber. Everyone did the same, Paul leaning himself against Claire, hearing her softly sigh.

When they finally got off the train, the four beatles were surrounded by police officers as they shoved forward to the car. A few feet behind them came Claire and Brian, trying to appear as if they're not with the Beatles and surprisingly the fans did not touch them, only wanting the four Liverpool lads. Quickly shuffling into the car and driving away, this time everyone had gotten out safe.

The car rolled to a stop by one of London's more respected hotels. Brian shooed everyone out and led the way up the stairs, entering the hotel and heading straight for the reception. The man by the desk told them that a lounge area had been prepared for the Beatles and co. He also gave them more detailed information about where the conference would take place.

As they entered the lounge, George leapt for the buffet as quickly as the others did for a comfy chair to sit on.

"Now remember, boys, don't say anything too risque! We don't need a scandal on our hands this early on. Just be the four charming lads from Liverpool and it should be fine..." Brian wrung his hands in a show of nervousness.

Letting the boys speak for themselves always made him worried. Brian didn't particularly trust the four, especially John...alright, just John. But you couldn't blame him! After having overheard from Paul about John doing nazi salutes and the like back in Hamburg, Brian hasn't been able to put it past John to say or do anything that could end all of their careers in a heartbeat. Brian knew John wouldn't pay much mind to his pleas but saying it time and time again never hurt anybody. Maybe after a certain amount of them John would actually just listen to him...nah, seems unlikely. He'd probably remain scandalous for his entire life. There was no silencing John Lennon after all, whether he'd grow to be a filthy rich celebrity or a dirt poor bum. Once the lad got something into his head, there was no getting it out.

John scoffed, "when 'ave we not behaved, Bri? We've always been very good, 'aven't we lads?"

The others nodded solemnly in response to John. Claire rolled her eyes; not once while she's been here have they obeyed any rules set by Epstein. She just took a nearby newspaper and opened it to cover herself from the rest. It wasn't easy pretending the finances section was a good read.

"Lennon, I could write an entire book and then some with all the times you haven't been good. Now, would you behave for just this once!" Brian wasn't pleading to them, he was commanding them.

The four beatles lightly waved him off, leaving Brian to sigh in exsasperation. He mentioned something about going to talk to a few people and left the room. Claire stayed hidden behind the newspaper and listened in on what the others were plotting yet again. They never seemed to tire of their shenanigans, always finding new and interesting ways to make this so called 'the Beatles' experience' more fun than it had any business being.

"Tha' paper any interestin', luv?" Ringo asked, clearly knowing what it was for as she stayed hidden.

" 'course, Duckie, I'm suddenly very intrested in...uhhh," she looked over what she had been 'reading' and redenned in the slightest embarrasment, "the uhh...y'know the finances..."

Paul laughed and sat on the arm of her chair as close to her as he could and swiped the paper, "the finances, ey? Is tha' why yer holdin' it wrong? Fer ye teh get a better perspective?"

" 'course, Paulie! Didn't yer da' teach ye tha' upside down is much more beneficial fer the uhhh the finances?" she didn't sound particularly convincing but, then again, that wasn't really the point, was it?

"Right grotty tha' is..." Paul filded up the paper and let it fall to the floor.

Paul continued to sit perched on the armrest, his eyes boring in to Claire, trying his best to get to the girl. Claire watched him with interest, her eyes following every intricate line of his face, memorising the way he looked at her so that she could recreate this as a drawing later and keep it forever. Who wouldn't want Paul 'too sexy to be real' McCartney looking at you like you're the only one in the room that matters? Clearly Claire couldn't resist and found herself drowning in the McCartney charm

The rest saw this effect, Paul being very happy and pleased at having acquired her undivided attention. He very much enjoyed receiving that look from Claire, a look that meant his flirting was showing the intended results. John, however, wasn't anywhere near as pleased. Honestly, he was quite bothered by this, feeling the need to stop it this very second before Macca actually leans down and just takes her then and there.

"Right, where does this window open to?" John jumped up from his seat, going to check on it himself, commanding the attention of every single soul in that room, even Paul and Claire.

Paul, seeing he'd lost that effect for the time being, decided to follow suit, wanting to see for himself and have a front row seat to John's next escapade. It was obvious to him that it had bothered the man when Paul made moves on Claire. John had opened the window by now, letting a breeze blow in causing a small draft. He leaned out of the window and hummed in satisfaction as he inspected the outside world.

"Alright." he said with a note of finality.

Paul gazed out the window as well, after having taken note of John's pleased hum, "bloody 'ell, John! Ye don'...ye're not actually plannin' on goin out there are ye?"

The man was becoming worried for his friend, as he gazed around at the others for help. Paul noted that Claire had hidden herself again behind the newspaper he had purposefully dropped to the floor. George and Ringo were eyeing the rest with a strange stare and John was nodding aproovingly at what he observed on the outside. It wasn't that high up, they were only on the first floor of the hotel, but the building still had a rise to it and curse the bloody british for marking the floors weirdly. Who even decides that what would normally constitute as the first floor should be called the ground floor and then the floor above that the first floor?! Complete nonsense!

"John, don't ye do it! Stop right now!" Paul exclaimed when he saw that John had stuck one leg halfway out the window.

John shot Paul an almost genuinely confused look, "why not, Macca? It would give Eppy an actual reason to worry."

As Paul argued with John about climbing out the window, Ringo had walked on over to Claire.

"Well, birdie, are ye gonna read tha' one page fer the rest o' the day? Are ye still on the finances or did ye finally reach the crossword?" he noticed that she had thankfully at least managed to open it right side up this time.

Claire's cheeks turned pink and she hid more behind the paper. Ringo chuckled at her action and softly lowered the newspaper from her hands. He grinned sweetly, his blue eyes twinkling with probably the most sincere and sweet emotion she'd ever experienced. God, today was just one new yet completely amazing thing after another.

"I think ye should go over there and talk John out of it, Macca could use yer help," he winked at her, motioning to the pair arguing by the window with his head.

The girl sighed and did as Ringo had suggested, finding that he was right, Paul was strugling to bring John back inside. George and Ringo then watched in amusement as Paul and Claire had a joined attempt at geting John Lennon to not completely climb out of a hotel window. Somehow the man had managed to put his other leg out and was now just sitting on the windowsill, idly swinging his legs like a schoolboy would. John didn't seem fazed by anything, quite enjoying his little game. Paul and Claire became franctic and desperate at this point and both just wrapped their arms around John's middle, holding him in place, occasionally giving him a tug backwards to pull him back in. The man whined in protest just a little bit every time they pulled and George and Ringo might as well have been rolling on the floor, holding theit stomachs, with how hard they laughed at the unfolding situation.

Not even a second later had Brian entered the room, followed by a much larger and stockier man. When he saw what was going on, Brian groaned, his head about to split from the headaches John manages to cause him. He had no idea why John was halfway on his way to have a lovely face to face chat with the goddamned pavement but at this point he was just not even gonna ask.

"Mal, would you please get John back in the room," he spoke to the larger man beside him in exaspertaion.

Mal stalked over, Claire and Paul unraveling from John like two octopuses, and pulled the man back into the room. Brian motioned for Claire to close the window after him so as to not give John any more ideas and Mal put the lad down on the nearest seat. John sat upon the sofa, arms folded and looking as indignant as a 9-year old when they have to leave the playground. It was stupid really, he knew he was acting stupid but he didn't particularly care, finding this a perfect way spice up their day. And then, when they're all old bags of shit, they can look back on this moment and laugh at John's stupidity.

"Now that John isn't partially out of the window," a stern look from Brian was handed unceremoniously to John, "we leave for the conference in five minutes. Claire, I'm sorry but you'll have to stay here for the time being."

"Tha's alright."

The man nodded to her reply, glad that at least someone wasn't being difficult. Five minutes passed quickly and they left for the interview, conference thingy. This left Claire alone in the room with only Mal. She'd heard of this man a few times before when Teddy used to rave about the Beatles being the absolute greatest thing to happen to the himan civilazation and all that. That seemed so long ago now...

Mal sat across from Claire, smiled and spoke kindly, " 'ello, I'm Mal, you must be Claire, ey?"

He stuck out his fantasically large hand in a polite gesture, Claire shaking it with a smile also on her face " 'ello, Mal, and yes I am 'er. I've 'eard abou' ye as well, yer the Beatles' roadie and assistant, righ'?"

Mal nodded, drawing his hand back after the shake, "yer right. The boys 'ave been talking a lot abou' ye since you came along. Even Brian seems to like you, which is very impressive, I must say."

Claire chuckled at that, "I think 'e only tolerates me 'cause I accepted all the work 'e gave me."

"Well, tha's Brian fer ye!" the man laughed heartily, his eyes crinkling into halfmoons behind the glasses.

Teddy had told her how everyone who met Mal Evans when he was with the Beatles said he was a very soft and kind person, contrary to the look of him being largely intimidating and even scary to some. Claire found herself at ease in his presence, he exibited a very friendly energy, very aproachable and nice. If this was how she'd have to pass time, then so be it.

"Ey, Claire, are ye bored? 'Cause I certainly am," Mal questioned her after a moment of silence.

Thr girl nodded franctically, "yes I am! Like ye wouldn' believe, Mal!"

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of cards, "would ye care fer a game of cards then?"

And so the two passed the time by playing card games and talking about any topic that arose. Some games they already both knew, but also some that they had to teach to one another. The clock on the wall by the buffet showed five minutes to twelve, meaning that the rest would soon be back and they'd leave for a photoshoot. Claire remembered the photo where the Beatles were surrounded by little chicks. Oh how she hoped this would be that photoshoot! She'd absolutely love to play with baby chickens

"Ey! I saw tha', Claire, you bloody cheater!" Mal laughed as the girl pretended to sip her tea, the cup having been empty for the last ten minutes, "put tha' card back!"

Claure stuck her tongue out like a disobediant child. Mal reached out for the card but Claire leapt up from her seat and hid behind the sofa. They played cat and mouse for a few minutes until Brian and the boys came back into the lounge.

Claire was currently stood behind the elongated buffet table, laughing like bloody maniac, Mal doing the very same thing. She held the card in the air behind her, the man leaning on the other side of the table, trying to reach. The Beatles and Brian watched in slight confusion as the two stood on opposing sides of a table, laughing their heads off while Claire just held one card in her hand. When they left the room earlier they had in no way expected to return to this scene.

"What is going on here?" Brian asked with an authorative voice.

Mal looked over at Brian, turning his whole body to face the man. Claire quickly darted from behind the table only to flop onto the loveseat. Mal looked over to where he heard her flop down, sending her a playful scowl.

"We were playing cards to pass the time an' Claire 'ere cheated," turning back to Brian, Mal explained amusedly.

Claire laughed from her seat, Paul deciding to join her again and plopping down next to her, "I only took a card, Mal, I didn't bloody rob ye or anythin'..."

"Yeah but you took one you weren' supposed to," he smiled fondly at the girl that Paul was currently trying to literally wrap himself around.

He was being very clingy today and it mostly just bothered John, well from what was noticable to the others. Paul managed to put his feet up, lean his head on her shoulder and pretend to sleep while everyone talked. The man was like an octopus, his limbs having gone everywhere to just cling to Claire. She was so soft and warm and she smelled nice, dear lord how could Paul even begin to resist! So he enjoyed himself by placing a tiny little kiss in the valley where Claire's neck met her snoulder, one that was meant for just Paul and her to know about. The action made a small shiver rake through her body. Nobody in the room saw it but Paul bloody felt it, the shiver. If he'd have any less self control he would've just lost any sense decency and let Claire be his libido. But Paul wasn't that cruel nor was he so shameless as to do such a thing. Instead he let his warm breath fan over her exposed skin on her neck. Paul never moved away from her, not that he was planning on such a thing anytime soon. He'd drag it out for as long as physically possible.

"Anyway, how did the conference go?"

John dramatically dropped into the very soft looking seat nearby, "great if ye discount tha' bloody wanker askin' us 'bout the dumbest shite I've ever 'eard..."

Claire sniggered and Ringo cut in, " 'e only asked ye if ye thought our music would go anywhere."

John banged his fist against the armrest, " 'e was insistin' we were some passing fad! I know fer a bloody fact we'll go further than Elvis!"

He looked so sincerely offended and angry that no one dared say anything. Claire got up from her seat, struggling to do so but ultimately succeeding. This made Paul's head fall off of her shoulder and him to crash into the loveseat full force, hitting his face in the process. She walked over to John, standing by the seat, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don' listen to 'im at all, John," she spoke so assuredly that no one dared argue, "I tell ye now, ye'll all go so far with yer music, ye'll be the greatest band in the 'istory, everyone will 'ave 'eard of the Beatles, even a 'undred years into the future!"

Silence filled the lounge for a bit and then John put his hand on top of Claire's that rested on his shoulder. He squeezed it a bit and smiled up at her. John trusted Claire's word, after all the girl was from the goddamn future.

"Are we jus' gonna ignore the incredible injustice tha' Claire wrought upon me?" Paul spoke from where he was a bit (a lot) smushed into the seat.

He saw the sweet regard she held for John as she placed that hand on him earlier. It made him annoyed to be perfectly honest. Even after every attempt of Paul's, she still didn't look at him the same way she did at John. And this drove him mad.

George ran over and flopped right on top of the whiny git, knocking the wind out of Paul. Ringo decided to join in as well, making Paul huff and puff and whine a whole lot more. One second you're cuddling into a wonderful girl and the next she goes to comfort your best friend instead, leaving you to be suffocated by the rest of your mates.

"Mal, get in there, ye big lump!" John urged the man, to which he complied with a sweet laugh and a patter of his shoes hitting the floor beneath them.

Ringo, George and Paul all tried to scramble and escape, however, Mal was quicker and Paul was probably gonna die now. He accepted his death fairly quickly, saying his last prayers loud enough for the rest to hear. Brian, John and Claire all laughed the loudest as they watched the writhing mess of four men on the poor little loveseat. What had it done to deserve such an unfair fate? Mal continued to chuckle as well, leaving the three beatles under to gasp and almost screech for help as the wind was being sucked out of them like juice from an orange in a juicer machine.

Eventually he did climb off and the rest quickly slid off as well, leaving Paul all alone on it yet again. There was a lot of heaving for breath after that. Some (mostly Paul) had almost died from being squished too hard and some just from laughing too much. Brian seemed to be having a grand ol' time for someone who was usually wound as tight as a clock mechanism. Overall this was a memory for the books, the window climbing included in the deal.

They did somehow manage to leave the hotel afterwards and get into the car, taking them to the building where they'd have the photoshoot. Inside they were all greeted and promptly directed to do different things. The Beatles were shooed off to change into other outfits, get their hair properly styled and make-up put on them. Brian was staying to make sure the four wouldn't wreak havoc on the photographer. He was left to do this job since Mal had too big of a soft spot on the four lads and Claire had proven to enjoy their tomfoolery and even play along with it, so, obviously, neither a very good choice for the job.

Brian did, however, tell the girl to go get the boys some tea. She didn't really mind seeing as it was at least something to do. Yeah, Claire wasn't allowed to go near the boys until they're done because they might start misbehaving if given the chance. So she brought the tea 'round and then sat and simply watched the boys do their own thing. The photographer handed them a lot of strange props, like big wax vegetables and big colorful sticks about twenty centimeters long that looked too much like dildos in Claire's mind. She burst with laughter when she saw those, everyone there giving her strange looks. When John whacked George on the head with one and then George did the same to Paul who then did this to Ringo and so on, the props were taken away. Honestly it looked better without any at all.

Claire reminisced on the horrid photos she'd see wher ethey had been given props. There was that one with the raw meat and baby doll parts, another one with the strange outfits (Paul dressed as a cat, John as some easterner, Ringo in a bear suit and George something that resembled Robin Hood). For some reason they just had a white rope draped over all of them in one and then that one where three were holding large springs and John was holding a strange plant. Yeah, no, thank for the decision to not include props this time.

They took some quite nice photos before the Beatles got bored and started making faces at the camera and messing around too much for an actual photo to be taken. It was then that they decided to call it a day and head over to the studio to tinker around with a few sounds and concepts.

Another car ride and they arrived at EMI studios on Abbey road. Claire's mind was once again being blown. What a musician wouldn't give to be at Abbey road studios with the Beatles. And she had it even better, Claire was here in the 60's and was about to watch the Beatles themselves work on something. At this point she just really, really hoped that this experience wasn't a dream. Claire would rather not have to wake up and forget everything within a span of a day.

John noted the girl's nervous excitement and gave her a questioning look. He received a look in return and it spoke volumes about how much this was blowing her mind. The man wondered what she was most excited about. He hoped it was actually hearing them play and having to strain your ears over the ear-piercing screams of teenage girls just to desperately pick out any clues to what the song being played even was.

They entered through the front door and masterfully walked to where they'd be working. Once in a smaller meeting room, Claire was introduced to George Martin. She could've fainted if John hadn't kept a hold on her. And after introductions the boys got to work. Thankfully she knew better than to just follow them down to the studio itself, instead staying up in the control room with Brian, George M. and Mal. Fine company if she does say so herself. And no way was she gonna do a Yoko on them all and barge in unwanted on the Beatles' personal recording time.

The lads did just what they said they would, tinkering. At times Claire heard some early stages of familiar songs and it certainly got her all excited and giddy. The three men in the control booth watched Claire gazing down at the boys playing their instruments and singing with such unbelievable admiration in her eyes. This was fine and all but at those little moments when she recognized something that would become a song later on and hummed along made them all a tad confused.

Brian would've asked her to be a dear and bring them all tea and biscuits but when he saw how awestruck she was with their music he resorted to just asking Mal. She honestly looked like a small kid gazing with wonder at toys in some shop. It'd be quite awful to tear her away and George M. seemed to agree as well.

At a point the boys were called up to the booth by George to discuss some sounds and take this small break. After they finished conversing and drinking the tea that Mal brought, the Beatles were about to head back down.

" 'ey luv, 'ow abou' ye join us fer a bit?" Ringo suggested first, grinning sweetly at the girl.

Claire looked hesitant, George chiming in as well, "yea! Ye sing beautifully anyway."

"I d'know, boys, I mean, isn' there an unspoken rule to not bring anyone who doesn' belong down there?" Claire asked innocently.

Paul then scoffed imcredulously and waved a dismissive hand, "nah, that's fer girlfriends and wives, luv. Ye ain't any of tha' to us, right?"

That wink at the end was what did it, "yeah, alrigh'! I've always wanted to sit in on a Beatles session anyway..."

"Gear!" George exclaimed and the five now descended the stairs to the studio.

The four beatles took their places behind microphones and drums and got ready to play something. For Claire's sake they decided to play something they'd already released.

_"You'll never know how much I really love you_  
_You'll never know how much I really care..."_ George began.

The poor girl's mouth hung open as the Beatles began ths song. She honestly quite loved the early years of beatles music. As great as the years following ' _Revolver_ ' were, one also has to appreciate the earlier music, see where the Liverpool lads came from.

The song continued on, however, and Claire just didn't dare sing along in fear of ruining the sanctity of George Harrison singing a Lennon-McCartney song with the backing of the Beatles.

_"Listen do you want to know a secret_  
_Do you promise not to tell woh woh woh closer_  
_Let me whisper in your ear_  
_Say the words you long to hear_  
_I'm in love with you... "_ George sang and sang.

Claire could've listened for the rest of her life to just that. She didn't think anything in her life could ever top being pseudo-serenaded by the one and only George Harrison. She wanted to laugh at the thought that one day she'd get married to someone and have a baby and all that just might come the closest of all to topping this. Alright so maybe that was a bit over the top but this was genuinely a once in the lifetime experience. At times Claire wondered if this would always be her reaction when the Beatles begin singing for her.

The song finished and Claire was full on beaming at the four, giving them reason to play something more. And play they did.

John wanting attention from the girl, stepped up and told the boys what he was gonna go for and then opened his mouth to sing, _"Well, shake it up baby now_  
_Twist and shout_  
_Come on, come on, come, come on baby now_  
_Come on and work it on out..."_

Yet again she sat stunned and John smirked at her, looking very self-satisfied with his choice. He knew exactly what this would do to the girl, seeing as she had told him at one point that she loved ir when John sang raspy.

_"Come on, come on, come, come on baby now_  
_Come on and work it on out_  
_You know you twist, little girl_  
_You know you twist so fine_  
_Come on and twist a little closer now_  
_And let me know that you're mine, woo..."_ that very distinct and very inentional rasp to John's voice indeed brought a blush to Claire's cheeks; a true success story by John Lennon.

She found John to be very attractive when he sang this specific song (and Come Together performed live had about the same effect) and so Claire couldn't help herself. He even had the audacity to look at her the whole time, smirking confident like while putting his vocal cords on full blast. His eyes told a different story, like trying to seduce her with the fantastically sexy rasp when he sang. Did the temperature go up suddenly? Surely it was poor ventilation and the joined breathing of five people. Surely.

And then it was over, just like that, like a snap of the fingers. Over in a blink of an eye. Claire and John were snapped out of their heated little staring contest. But the tentative, charged looks didn't stop between them though. Only when a few minutes later Paul coughed loudly on purpose, did it fully stop.

"Right, I uhhmm-I've been workin' on this new song...I don' 'ave it written down anywhere but I's all memorised in me 'ead," Paul spoke, looking between John and Claire.

The lads nodded for him to play what he had in mind, _"You say you will love me_  
_If I have to go_  
_You'll be thinking of me_  
_Somehow I will know..."_

Now she knew exactly which album they were recording and dear lord was she excited for the movie. Claire thought back on the many times she'd watch 'A Hard Day's Night' with Teddy. It was probably her favorite beatles movie of all mostly due to how inexperienced the lads were.

Of course this had to be the only moment during all the time that Claire'd been here when she couldn't keep her mouth shut. This was also where the disaster started.

As Paul moved into the next lines, Claire began to sing along, _"Someday when I'm lonely_  
_Wishing you weren't so far away_  
_Then I will remember_  
_The things we said today..."_

The sweet harmonies would've been something to marvel at had this been any other song they'd already released or shown her. Paul stopped playing immediately, gaping at her knowledge of the song. His first instinct was to question whether he'd just heard the song somewhere else before and had now accidentally coppied it. But that seemed unlikely to be honest.

Claire sang another two lines but stopped when she noticed that Paul wasn't singing anymore and everyone was now intesely staring straight at her. 'Oh shit' was the one thing on her mind. She realized her mistake quickly, catching the gaze of George and Paul being very confused and freaked out. John and Ringo looked more surprised at the fact that she actually did that.

"Uhmm I'll go get some tea fer us, ey? Mal mentioned tha' there were sandwiches as well..." with a small nervous laugh Claire was off faster than a sinner passing a church.

She ran up the stairs three steps at a time and rushed past the control booth, saying she'll be making tea and some snacks. Claire somehow actually found the kitchen in this place and rushed in there. First thing she did was repeatedly bang her head against one of the cabinets. Yes it hurt but now it just felt entirely appropriate to do so.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she whisper yelled to herself.

As Claire proceeded to have a freakout, the Beatles and co. were back at the studio trying to figure out what happened.

" 'Ow did she know the lyrics already? I 'aven't sang or showed that song to anyone much less 'ave the words written down!" Paul was a bit paranoid by now, nothing was making sense.

George tried suggesting something plausible, "maybe...maybe ye did accidentally sing it once or hummed it or sommat? There's no other logical explanation...Wha' do ye think, Ritchie?"

The drummer's head popped up from behind the drums, he didn't have to think really, Ringo knew why Claire knew the words, "I d'know...I think Geo's right...Paul probably accidentally sang it sometime and she jus' was 'round to 'ear..."

"Bu' I didn't! I would remember if I 'ad! Bloody 'ell this is givin me a 'eadache..." Paul was beyond confused now.

The three shot questions and half-hearted answers at one another. No one could quite explain why a girl with amnesia would know a song that just got it's first playing after having been exclusively shut in and chained down in McCartney's head.

"John, d'ye 'ave any ideas? Ye aven't spoken a word after what 'appened," George questioned, much to his and Paul's wonder.

"I jus' spaced out is all...nice song, Macca, we should absolutely put it on the album, it's meant to be there," John spat out after having returned to planet Earth.

Paul opened his mouth to say something but John beat him to it as he rose from his seat, "anyroad, I'll go 'elp Claire with the tea, 'eavens knows she might get confused, y'know, this being 'er first time 'ere an' all."

John ran off before anyone could stop him. It was almost too obvious that the man was lying through his teeth. Sometimes he could lie like no one's business but then there were times when it was just all too obvious, this being one of them.

Reaching the kitchen, he pulled the door open only to find Claire pacing the room with an incredibly worried expression. John stumbled over, asking her what she had been thinking when she did that. The response he got was a deadpan face and Claire stopping in her tracks to turn to John and lay it all out for the lad.

"I wasn't thinking anything! It just slipped out...I really like that song and I guess I just let my mind slip and do whatever..." Claire wrapped herself up in a defensive manner.

"Well tha' 'whatever' is very dangerous! Ye can't jus' go 'round tellin' everyone whatever ye want, doin' reckless things tha' could ruin the future!" John was begining to raise his tone.

"Oh, tha's rich coming from ye! Ye literally tried jumping out of a window today, John! If tha's not reckless, then I d'know what is!" Claire was on the way to match him in tone.

"Tha's not the same! Claire, I already know too much because ye can't keep yer bloody fookin mouth shut when ye 'ave a few too many drinks!" John was now steadily shouting.

"Why does it even bother ye tha' the others know 'bout me bein' from the future! It's not tha' big of a deal if any of ye know!"

"I don't care if they know! Ye should tell as little people as ye can and leave as soon as possible! I's not normal an' ye shouldn' be 'ere!"

"Ye see yer not even good at lyin'! Ye do care, don't ye?! Ye just want to be the only one teh know, ye like feelin' special when yer actually not! I told Ringo jus' a day ago and 'e took it very well...'e 'asn't asked me fer anythin' an' it's fine!"

John looked angrily at her, seeming as if she ripped at a touchy part, "ye should leave, ye obviously don' belong here. It's daft tryin' teh pretend like ye do..."

He spoke in a low, dangerous tone, setting Claire off with his words.

"Don't ye think I've tried! All I can think abou' is tha' I'm 54 years in the past and I 'ave no know way of gettin' back! Me da' is probably alone at 'is 'ome worrying his already broken 'eart over 'is little girl not 'avin' called 'im in days!!! Do ye 'ave any idea 'ow difficult tha' is, ye selfish fookin' prick?!" Claire shouted back at him, making John even angrier than before.

"Well then try 'arder, will ya! Ye can't jus' stay 'ere fer the rest of yer bloody life, leechin' off of me an' the lads! Even we will eventually 'ave families and ye won't be able to stay with us anymore, tha's not 'ow this is gonna work! There's only so much of yer shite we can tolerate!" John yelled louder than her as if it were a competition.

The door to the room suddenly burst open to reveal the other three beatles, "wha's goin' on 'ere?"

"Why're ye two shoutin' at each other?" Paul followed up George's question.

"Nothin'!" John spat out and pushed past the lads, storming off to somewhere.

"Bloody fookin wanker..." Claire muttered under her breath as she crossed her arms and watched him walk away.

"We'll go see wha's up with 'im..." Ringo told Claire and Geo as he pulled Paul away with him.

As George and Claire were left alone in the kitchen, the girl was still visibly upset and shaken by what John had said. George wrapped her in a hug, her face pressed into his chest and him rubbing her back in a soothing manner.

"Wha' 'appened between ye two?"

"It's nothin', Geo...it's between me an' John anyway..." Claire cuddled more into George, enjoying the niceness of the hug.

He didn't press further, leaving it for now since he wasn't one to pry too much. Of course he was curious, as anyone would be after having witnessed Claire and John have a fight. It was strange for the reason that the two had been as virtually inseperable as John is with Paul. But even the two of them had arguments sometimes, those actually involving some physical violence. Thankfully John wasn't so blinded by rage that he would resort to hitting a woman, not yet at least.

For the next ten or so minutes George stood with Claire in that kitchen, getting her to calm down. At one point she even shed a few tears but then promptly stopped when she realized that this was dumb, crying over John Lennon being mean to you for once. She wasn't a weak pushover. Claire wasn't about to let this one man get to her and tear her apart.

"Geo, I jus' realized...ye're all goin' to yer 'omes 'ere in London...I was supposed to go with John..." Claire pulled away, looking alarmed.

George thought for a second, "yer right, le's just go an' see 'ow far they've gotten, ey?"

They walked over to the studio only to find that Paul and Ringo were standing there and talking to one another, no John anywhere in sight.

"Lads, where'd John go?" Geo asked the two.

Paul looked up first, eyeing Claire with a carefully crafted expression so as to not set her off, "we tried talkin' to 'im but 'e wouldn' say much and just said 'e was goin' 'ome early. So I suppose were finishing early today..."

"Righ'...well tha's bad luck, innit, Claire? Ye can come stay with me if ye want, jus' fer tonight or until ye figure things out with John..." George offered with a kind smile gracing his cheeks and showing off his fang-like teeth.

Claire's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "George! I can't...I don' want to be imposing on ye...I don't want teh leech off of any of ye...I've been doing enough o' tha' apparently..."

George shook his head, "now tha's just John speakin'...Claire luv, I don' mind ye stayin' with me, it'll be nice teh 'ave company fer once!"

Claire then conceded with a small smile. She greatly appreciated these lads helping her so much.

"Wait, wait wha's goin' on? Why's Claire staying at yer place, she could stay with me...I-I 'ave a comfier bed anyway..." Paul butted in, very confused by everything that had just unfolded and displeased by Claire's chosen home for the night.

"S'okay, Paul, I'll be alrigh'...thank ye, Geo, this means a lot, really," Claire smiled sweetly at the man.

Paul frowned, he'd really wanted to do something nice for the girl. It was so hard getting Claire to favor him instead of the others. At first it was John and him actually showing genuine kindness and care for the girl, then Claire and Ringo having nicknames already and now George probably scoring major points on her 'favorites' list by letting her stay and being generally nice. What would Paul have to resort to to gain her favor? He was gonna have to work on this.

While Paul was busy day-dreaming, George and Claire said goodbye to Ringo and left to go to George's home. On the way the man was honestly a tad nervous. He'd managed to develop a small puppy-crush on Claire. George couldn't help it, she was very pretty, liked music, could play music and was very fun and nice. How could he not?

So when he was in the cab with her, George's hands were sweaty and his mind racing. For a small moment he kind of regretted having suggested for her to stay with him. But when he looked over and saw her small frown, probably thinking about the argument with John, George didn't regret it anymore. He was glad to help the girl out. If he hadn't, Ringo or Paul might've. Ringo wouldn't have been the worst thing, he's nice and unassuming. Paul, however, might've done some not so great stuff that could lead to Claire feeling uncomfortable or unsafe with the four of them. George didn't want that at all. It certainly in no way was like George just didn't want Claire to fall for Paul like every other bird seemed to be doing ever since forever. No definitely not that.

The cab rolled to a stop by George's London flat. Both of them exited the car, George paying the fare. Now that he saw his house, George began to feel more excited than anything. A whole night to be spent with Claire, a lot of time to get to know her better.

They tumbled through the door, shutting out the chilly air. George flicked on the lights and shook off his coat. He was about to take Claire's coat for her but she had already done so herself. George's eyes lingered on Claire for a while longer, admiring the beautiful dress she had worn today. It was a nice blue-purpleish colour with white accents on the sleeves, hem and collar. Every good feature of Claire's body had been accented heavily.

"Right, welcome to the 'umble flat of George 'arrison, make yerself at 'ome," the man greeted when he managed to pull his eyes away from the gorgeous girl and his mind out of the gutter.

Claire hummed in response as she looked around with a tired smile painted delicately on her thin lips. He moved forward into the home and motioned for her to follow. George led them both to the kitchen where he took out his kettle, teacups and other necesities for brewing tea.

"Why don' ye go put a record on? They're in the room over," George suggested as he turned to make the tea for them.

Claire glanced to where he nodded and then back at him, her eyes focused on the careful way his hands fiddled with the kettle, "ye 'ave anythin' particular in mind?"

"Nah, put on whatever catches yer eye..." he waved her off with his back turned to the girl.

Claire shrugged and left the kitchen. She found the turntable standing near one of the shelves and a bunch of records both beside it and crammed on shelves all over. Her fingers skidded across the many spines, reading out the names and titles. But she halted when her eyes landed on something interesting. 'Raunchy' by Duane Eddy. Claire switched the turntable on and lowered the needle on the record.

Sound errupted vividly into the room, reaching it's way around the entire flat, filling it with wonderful music. The door to the kitchen opened and George brought the tea tray down on the table. He grinned at Claire, delighted by her choice.

"Y'know I played this as me audition fer the Beatles...although back then we were still the Quarrymen..." George looked distractedly at a wall, deep in his own memories.

Claire pretended to not have known any of the information, this being her first time hearing such a thing. After all it's not like she watched 'Nowhere Boy' about a hundred times and liked it a lot actually. Now that she thinks about it, Claire definitely finds the casting for that movie to be quite off, Paul looked nor sounded anything like himself and John only hit the mark momentarily on some words or from some angles. George wasn't in it enough to really judge very well, but from what she did see, he looked nothing like the real thing. And goddamn it, Ringo wasn't in it all...for obvious reasons.

"Fook! The tea!" George had forgotten to pour any of it and so he got to the task now at least.

Claire accepted the steaming cup of tea in her slightly chilled hands, "ye 'ave so many records, Geo...I used teh only 'ave like maybe about thirteen I think..."

"Well I used teh also 'ave very few. Me family was quite poor ye see and we were four kids, me bein' the youngest, so we di'n't always 'ave a lot o' money. I barely even got me guitar, there wasn' even any talk abou' 'avin' so many records..." George reminisced, Claire listening with full interest.

"But now I 'ave me own money and I can 'ave as many o' the thingies as I want..." George finished after a silent second or two, as did the song.

He got up from his seat and put on another record, something Claire wasn't entirely familiar with. It sounded like some obscure 50's rock 'n' roll song but nice nonetheless. George stuck his hand out with a whacky smile lighting up his entire demeanour.

"Dance with me, luv?"

Claire chuckled at this, her cheeks slightly staining a gentle red. Nevertheless, she did accept his hand and George pulled her up from the seat. The two just sort of spazzed around to the song, seeing as it was a quickly paced one. They laughed at each others strange attempt at 'dancing', Claire eventually collapsing on the sofa, wiping tears from her eyes. George remained though, still attempting dancing in any sort of acceptable way. When he flailed around, knocking into several pieces of furniture, Claire could've suffocated from lack of breathing due to her excessive laughing.

Then the song ended and fizzled into something just as upbeat but less dancable and George plummeted in the empty seat next to her. He watched the girl with gleaming eyes as she wiped away some stray tears and let out her last small chuckles. George had no idea why some kind of higher being or something had sent this girl into their lives but he wouldn't have it any other way, in short, he was thankful.

The man was snapped out of his reverie when Claire yawned next to him, smiling sleepily, "I think i's time fer sleep, Geo..."

"Mhmm..." he agreed wordlessly.

"C'mon I'll show ye where ye'll be sleepin'..." he guided her off the sofa and asked for her to follow him, "I've got a spare bedroom, which is conveniant, considering 'ow often the others end up stayin' 'ere after a particularly long evenin'"

Claire simply nodded along, still trailing behind him, her own thoughts consuming her mind. After a short recount of what had actually happened today, Claire came to a halt with a realization of what she'd missed out while in the heat of the moment with John and that argument. Her suitcase with all the clothes, her purse and everything else were still with John. Claire, who had come to a complete halt in the hallway, slapped her forehead in frustration.

George had evidently noticed and responded accordingly, "ey, Claire luv, what's wrong?"

He placed a slightly tentative hand on her upper arm, in an effort to show comfort. The girl's head snapped to him immediately, having been startled from her own journey into the mind.

"No, no i's fine, Geo, I jus' remembered tha' all me clothes an' things are still with John..." she simply explained, gazing at George in front of her.

He nodded, removed his hand and spoke, "ahhh, I see...alrigh', come on, I'll give somethin' teh sleep in then."

She followed him into his room and obediently sat on the bed as George began to dig around the messy closet. Claire swung her legs, softly singing a tune that had been knocking around in her head for the better half of the day. Somehow she had woken up in the morning and while she showered, letting her mind drift, the tune and words of Paul's song 'English Tea' insistantly paraded her mind. And now she softly sang the song itself, forgetting that George was also there and could definitely hear her.

" _Would you care to sit with me_  
_For a cup of English tea?_  
_Very twee, very me_  
_Any sunny morning..."_ Claire didn't notice what she'd done until George chimed in saying how nice of a song it was.

"Where did ye 'ear tha'? Or did ye come up with it yerself?" the guy was genuinely curious and oh so earnest.

A signifficantly nervous and stricken expression overtook the girl's features, "no...no-I...I don' remember where I 'eard it, but I can guarantee ye tha' I di'n't write it meself..."

George looked a tad unconvinced but didn't question further, continuing to look for some socks to give to the girl. Most socks in his closet had been already worn at least once or twice and he wasn't about to give one of his smelly socks to Claire. George was determined to make a good host and hopefully not embarrass himself too much. But that had kind of been thrown to the wind when he danced around like a loon earlier.

He emerged from the depths of the closet with a few comfy solutions to their problem. Extending his arm for Claire to take the articles of clothing.

" 'ere, this is the best I've got fer ye, " Claire accepted the clothes, taking time to observe what she had to work with.

A white t-shirt, some pants made of a nicer kind of cotton, those damned socks and a knitted sweater. He didn't want her to freeze in case she got cold during the night.

"Geo, where's yer shower?" Claire asked with a smile of appreciation.

George grinned back, getting up and leading the way for her yet again, "'ere it is, luv. Ye can use anything ye need...oh, and there are spare toothbrushes in tha' there cabinet."

"Thank ye so much, Geo, ye're an absolute lifesaver!" Claire hugged the man as a means of communicating how much she truly appreaciated him.

George hugged her back without hesutation, his cheeks tinting a shy pink. He liked being appreciated, who didn't?

Claire then closed the door to the bathroom and got on with washing her entire body of today's accumulated dirt. In total she spent about 15-20 minutes in there.

While she showered, the phone rang downstairs, drawing George's attention to it. He followed the sound and answered the call. Saying 'hello' was cut short by the familiar voice on the other line franctically sputtering out words.

"George? Where's Claire? Paul and Ringo wouldn' answer the phone...I jus' found her suitcase of stuff in me car and I remembered she was supposed stay with me! Please tell me ye know where she is!" John was virtually freaking out on the other side.

"John, shut up! She's 'ere with me. I brought 'er 'ome after ye 'ad yer argument over god knows what..." George explained with an eye roll.

He couldn't believe that John only remembered this late into the night about Claire's predicament. What if George or any of the others hadn't been around to take Claire home? Where would she have had to go? He severly doubted that she'd be able to stay at the studio or something. George had a small burst of anger towards John's carelesness in this situation.

"Oh..." the man on the other side deflates a small amount, "I-I can come pick 'er up, get 'er out of yer 'air, Geo..."

That suggestion left George chuckling lightly, "no, John, ye don' 'ave to, I like 'aving 'er 'ere and besides, she's in the shower now, doubt she'll be wantin' teh go anywhere at all..."

"Oh...alright then I guess...I mean it's fine y'know, less fussing and worrying fer me. I won' 'ave teh worry abou' someone as ungrateful as 'er..." George saw that some of that earlier anger still lingered and he drew a sigh.

George didn't belive a word John had said. It was fairly obvious that the man had enjoyed having her there with him all the time and taking care of her. Now all he was doing was putting on that tough front of 'I don't care, I'm John Lennon', which Geo found absolutely stupid in every way. He was sure John'd lose Claire if he kept it up further.

And so he told him just that, considering George didn't want the whole group to be awkward because of an insignifficant argument, "John, ye should make up with Claire...ye know jus' as well as me tha' if ye don' make this better, tha' Claire will not be so very fond of ye anymore..."

John heaved the heaviest sigh George had ever heard from the man, "yeah...yeah, I know, Geo, i's jus' 'ard sometimes, y'know?"

The mentioned man nodded, remembering after a second that John couldn't see him, "...yea...anyroad, I'll see ye tomorrow, John, at the station I suppose...Claire'll be there too, maybe ye should take the time teh pull her aside and talk it out with 'er."

John made a noise of agreement and the two hung up the phone soon thereafter. George stalked back upstairs, meeting Claire in the hallway, dressed comfily in his clothes. He honestly thought she looked sort of silly yet also quite adorable.

The two exchanged a 'goodnight' and headed to their respective rooms. Claire crashed into the bed, her head hitting the pillow, and fell into a deep, tired sleep. She managed to lay for a few hours, unbothered and unconscious.

But it was around 3:30 am when she awoke, feeling thirsty and restless, and headed downstairs to quench her thirst. She carefully, quietly so as to not disturb George, snuck out and descended the stairs. Having succesfully not made any loud noises, Claire stepped foot into the kitchen.

She was promptly met with a sight she didn't exactly expect to see at 3 am. A George Harrison clad in pajamas stood by the open refridgerator, his head hidden behind the door and the light from it iluminating the entire kitchen in a pale blueish light. As she fully stepped into the kitchen, Claire purposefully made a shuffling sound to indicate that she's also there.

George's head snapped up in fear, hitting against a shelf in the fridge, him thinking it to be a burglar or a ghost making the sounds. But when he saw that it was just Claire standing by the door and smirking at George's night-eating, he visibly relaxed.

"What are ye doin' up, luv? It's 3 am, ye should get some rest..." George rubbed his head where he bumped it against the shelf, as he closed the fridge door with a handful of food items.

Claire giggled at the man, "I could ask ye the same thing, Geo luv..."

George laughed to that and shrugged. He sat all the items down on the counter and went around it to stand at the side facing Claire. Opening up the various containers and getting out a chopping board and knife, George spoke.

"Well, if ye must know, I got 'ungry an' decided teh 'ave meself a sandwich...now why are ye 'ere?" George told Claire as he began making said sandwich.

Claire rolled her eyes in humour and responded to him, "I woke up, couldn' fall back asleep and decided I wanted teh drink some water...so now 'm 'ere."

George hummed, continuing to prepare his food. Claire decided to boil some tea for the two after she'd had her glass of water. She sat in companionable silence with George as he finished up the sandwiches. The kettle whistled on the stove and Claire poured the water in a teapot, finding two washed cups near the sink from earlier. George left the kitchen for a few secomds, leaving Claire a tad confused and the sandwiches sitting all lonely like on the table.

She understood when a soft music began playing quietly from the sitting room. George returned shortly after, carrying two large, heavy and warm looking blankets. He motioned for Claire to take the sandwiches and tea and follow him for the umpteenth time this day. Leading the way outside through the kitchen door, George and Claire found themselves out in his garden. She looked around, finding all to be shrouded in darkness and George settling in a chair behind a table on the bricked patio. Claire followed suit, setting everything down and accepting the blanket from George and wrapping it around herself. Music could still be heard drifting softly from the house. It skillfully set the atmosphere for the night, complimenting the shining stars in the inky night sky.

While Claire had been busy admiring their surroundings, George had already poured the tea for them, smiling fondly at her. Claire met his eyes with a tender chuckle and took the other sandwich that George pushed her way. For the time being they ate and drank in silence, not needing to speak to enjoy the ambience of the night.

After some time George softly prodded at the question bothering him, "Claire, what's upsettin' ye? And don' tell me tha' i's nothing, I 'ear tha' enough already..."

The girl held the teacup to her lips, almost as a way of shielding herself from George's prying eyes. She didn't meet his eye, finding interest in the empty flowerbed nearby. Claire would rather think about George's afinity for nature and gardening. Avoiding the topic of John and their argument seemed more pleasant comparatively to talking it all out as if Geo was a shrink.

George leaned into her line of sight, raising an eyebrow, "luv, I jus' want to 'elp ye..."

She still stubbornly held the cup to her mouth but decided to speak to him after all, "Geo...i's jus'...I was thinkin' about the thing with John...i's not that bad, I'll get over it anyway..."

George sighed at the small, vulnerable voice of Claire, seeing right through her. He might not know the details, nor what the argument was even about but he wasn't thick, he could tell that it affected both parties involved. Something he usually picked up after knowing someone for a little bit was seeing through a lot of people's bullshit.

"Alright," George let it slide for the time being, "but if ye feel bad abou' anything, I can be a shoulder fer ye teh lean on, luv, yer not alone 'ere. We, all four of us, are 'ere fer ye, we care, really we do..."

He let his eyes roam the girl's face, inspecting the little one-second emotions flit across her face. Leaning back against the seat, George finished off his late night snack. The music made his mind sway and his brain to find the ethereal beauty of the stars twinkling in the sky above London. His eyes then met the beauty sitting next to him by the patio table. Wrapped in a big puffy blanket, Claire stared at the stars and swayed her head softly along to the music, her lips mouthing the words to the song. George wanted nothing more in that moment, everything was there already, surrounding him in the most wonderful way.

"What were ye an' Mal doing today anyway? Seems ye got on pretty well with 'im..." George expressed his curiosity with a toothy grin adorning his face.

Claire chuckled, setting down her cup on the table and wrapping herself completely up in the blanket, "well, Geo luv, i's simple really...ye see, we introduced ourselves, talked fer a bit and then got to playing games, mostly cards..."

George cocked an eyebrow, asking in a teasing tone, "ohhh, is tha' it? Wha' did ye talk 'bout, ey?"

" 'bout ye boys, 'ow strange ye are and what terrible singers ye really are, ye know, the usual..." Claire responded with a laugh of her own, finding George quite amusing.

George let loose a loud chuckle of his own, "I was gonna pour ye some more tea but now it seems ye don' deserve it..."

Claire rolled her eyes, a genuine grin on her lips, and teasingly responded, "don' laugh so loud, ye'll wake up the neighbours, luv."

"Oh sod off!" George laughed some more, not caring about his volume.

Watching George genuinely be happy and full of life drew out a laugh from her that was just as unrestrained and true as his. The two simmered down after a bit, George actually pouring her another cup of tea, despite his earlier statement. Music had stopped playing, the vinyl needed to be flipped over. But neither was in any rush to do so, they rather liked the silence. The only sounds present were some rustling branches, the wind whistling through the air, sounds of cars, people and stray animals walking around the streets just beyond the yard's fence. All in all, just a normal night, yet it didn't entirely feel like that to the two sitting in George's yard.

Claire felt at peace with her situation, having decided to just enjoy it for as long as she's here, despite what John said. After all, if John didn't want her here anymore, well, he could just fuck right off, Paul, George and Ringo seemed to want Claire around and that was enough.

But even amidst her own thoughts, Claire could feel the electricity in the air. It was coming off of George in waves. He had something brewing in that mind of his and Claire wasn't sure if she wanted him to share with the class.

And turns out she didn't even have a choice anyway as George turned to her and in a cautious manner asked his thoughts away, "luv, 'ow 'onest with us 'ave ye been since ye came 'ere?"

Then before she could even begin to answer, George cut in, "actually, fook that! I know fer a fact ye've been untruthful abou' a lot o' things..."

Claire sat stunned in her seat, never having expected all the Beatles to be so aware of, well, everything, "George...wha'?...wha' do ye think I've lied teh ye abou'?"

"I d'know! I just know ye've not told the truth abou' some things...I don't like being lied teh, Claire, please just tell the truth..."

"The truth is, George, tha' I 'aven't lied 'bout anything..." Claire had decided it better to deny the accusations, not finding it in herself just yet to explain the whole complicated predicament to George.

"Claire..."

"George..." she almost mocked him.

"Why can't ye jus' say?! I won't think any less of ye because of it!" George had slightly raised his tone of voice.

"Because there's nothin' teh say..." Claire couldn't bring herself to look straight at him and lie.

George was getting frustrated, "do ye think of me as some daft fool?! I know when I'm being lied to, Claire! So jus' make it easier fer the both of us and tell me the truth!"

Claure scoffed softly, mostly to herself, "quiet beatle my arse...Fine, George, if ye're gonna be so insistant on it, then I'll tell ye."

Inside his head George was doing a small victory dance, cheering at his breakthrough.

"Ye won't believe me fer shite on what I'm about to say but I guess if someone came 'round tellin' me all of this, I wouldn't belive them either..." Claire led into it.

George shifted excitedly in his seat, not able to keep still or nonchalant at the prospect of being told what seemed to him like the secret of the decade, better than most scandals of their day.

"I guess I'll just say it as bluntly as I can, just like ripping off a plaster, right?"

The man eagerly nodded his head, preparing for anything Claire would throw at him.

Claire drew a shaky breath and then in that one breath she spewed everything quickly as can, "Idon'tbelonghereGeorgeI'mfromthefutureIdontknowwhyorhoworanythingbutimjustheresomehow-"

"Aright slow down there, luv, couldn't catch a thing ye were sayin'..." George chuckled if only a tiny bit awkwardly, motioning for her to start again, slower this time.

Another breath, another crack at explaining, "George, there's no easy way teh say or explain any o' this but what I-me an' John 'ave gathered is tha' I've somehow traveled back in time to the 60's...I genuinely 'ave no idea 'ow or why it 'appened, it just did...oh god it was easier telling this to John and Ringo..."

George sat befuddled, his mind trying to grasp at the new information, "are ye actually serious then? Ye really think ye're from the future? From...from _when_ are ye?"

Claire rubbed at her forehead, seeing that George was not entirely convinced, "I'm startlingly serious I'm afraid...an' about tha' _when_ , though, I lived in 2018, gotta say, not the best time teh be alive but the 1960's, however, are fooking magical and exciting."

"What do ye mean by 'not the best time teh be alive?" George decided to believe her for now, she certainly seemed convinced enough.

"It's complicated, Geo...there's so much pollution, the oceans are full o' plastic, there's still racism, nazi's are fooking coming back and...and i's just a mess, really..." Claire sighed, snuggling into the blanket.

George was a tad distraught at her words, "I-bu...hmmnn i-it can't all be tha' bad right? The technology's progressed, 'asn't it? Are there like flyin' cars and shite like tha'?"

"Tha's a lot o' questions, Geo...an' no, there are no flyin' cars, not yet at least...but we 'ave these neat phones tha' can do a lot o' things and I s'pose medicine and science has advanced too...i's not completely bad but there's just a lot o' stupid things goin' on..." Claire tried explaining 2018 as simply as she could to someone in the 60's.

"Right...ye said John and Ringo were easier teh explain this to, so I understand tha' ye've already told 'em..." George unwrapped it all, choosing to leave the mind blowey stuff for when he's more able to wrap his mind around everything.

"Oh, yeah I 'ave...I told John almost right after I woke up for the first time, y'know when 'e freaked out an' ye brought me tea...afterwards 'e came back an' we talked it out, he let me stay after tha' an' then a little ways ago I told Ringo...'e also kinda suspected something was up and 'e jus' was so unassuming an' cool with it...like it didn' matter at all..." Claire finished, a far off look settling in her features as she stared at a non-particular spot in the garden.

George hummed as a means of responding, feeling that he really just needed time process this all. A last question lingered, however.

"Wha' abou' Paul then? Does 'e know at all?"

"No."

He nodded, not speaking further. All this was too much no matter how much sense it made or how it explained the little things like knowing lyrics or information that she's not supposed to. It just fit too well. And then there was the way John had immediately liked her and decided to help her. The man wasn't known to just do that. Heck, it was hard to get him to care about anyone that wasn't Paul, family or friends. So forgive George for thinking it was a tad strange that John just started caring so much for a sandy girl on a beach.

But now he knew the truth and he understood it all. George completely got John's actions.

"So was this whole ' _future_ ' thing what ye an' John argued abou'?"

"Yea...'e said a few nasty things and so did I...but I'm not gonna 'old it against 'im though...I can imagine i's not easy on John to deal with me bein' 'ere..." Claire sighed thoughtfully.

George nodded his head. Then after a minute or two George got up, taking the plate, cups and teapot with him. He bid her goodnight, saying that 'e was gonna need to sleep for a century after that knowledge dump. Claire attempted a joke about the Beatles needing him but George was just so out of it that no reaction was given. He did ask her whether she'd be going to sleep too, to which he received a negative response.

Putting all the dishes in the sink, not bothering to wash them at all. George let his body hit his bed and his mind to wander after that. He was just gonna have to sleep this whole thing off and talk more about it tomorrow with Claire, maybe even with John if he'd be willing.

Claire didn't go inside afterwards, deciding to just stay out and weigh her options. She tried rethinking her situation, her options and all that. Quite honestly, she was scared and lost on almost everything that was happening right now. Most of all she hoped she could make things better with John. She genuinely regretted the things she said, it wasn't nice in any way. The words they exchanged kept coming back at her and Claire just didn't have the physical or mental strength to get up and head to bed. So she just stayed put out on the patio, diving deep into her by now tattered psyche.


	7. I'm Only Sleeping

Claire didn't go back inside that night after letting it all spill so freely in front of George. She had stayed awake and sat outside where Geo last left her, watching the small garden, familiarising herself with every crevice and corner of it. At this point it was probably seared into her memory for life. Maybe when and if she gets back home and is able to afford a nice place like George's, she'd even try to copy the look of this backyard. Yeah, that sounded very pleasant to Claire. Her dad would probably love it too.

Oh how she missed him. She loved being here, spending time with the Beatles, mindlessly enjoying their presence and the liveliness of the group before it all came crashing down on them. But during these quiet moments when her brain had a little too much time to think about everything, Claire couldn't help but wonder about what was going on back home. Mostly she just hoped her dad was doing fine. After everything he's been trough, Claire didn't want him to have to worry for the safety of his one and only daughter. The man didn't have much beyond memories from days gone by, his dear daughter Claire and whatever material possesions he had. He couldn't afford to loose any more from his life.

Claire watched the sun's bright yellow rays peak out from beyond the horizon, slightly blocked by trees and other homes. She let a long, drawn out yawn fall from her mouth and walked inside, the blanket still resting heavily on her shoulders. Putting it away on the sofa and trudging back in the kitchen, Claire decided to do something nice for Geo as a show of her gratitude.

While she was getting all the ingredients, a bowl and a whisk, Claire spotted a lonely radio crouching on the windowsill, beckoning her with it's slightly dusty knobs and buttons. She took it in her hands and carefully switched the device on, finding the volume and adjusting it so that she could still hear thr music but not enough to wake up poor George from his sleep. Claire happily hummed along to songs she knew and mixed the pancake batter in the bowl. Hopefully George would like them, therefore putting him in a good mood for the day.

The clock reads 6:45 a.m. and Claire realizes that George would probably be getting up and at it soon. So she boils a pot of some nice jasmine tea that she found in Geo's cupboard. Just as she'd predicted, George is coming downstairs just as the tea is about to boil. He stumbles into the kitchen sleepily, clearly not yet perfectly rested. Claire suspects it might be due to the bomb of knowledge she'd dropped on him last night, possibly making his overthink and stay awake for more than he'd been expecting.

Whistling fills the kitchen in a distinctly screeching way, startling George just a bit. Claire apologizes to the man and takes the kettle off the burner, pouring the boiling hot water in a teapot. George yawns loudly, mouth hinging open with an ungodly amount, and settles himself by the table.

"Wha's this then? Fer 'ow long 'ave ye been up makin' all o' this?" George peers blearily at her just as Claire sets down the crowded plate of pancakes and then the teapot.

The girl blushes a tad but responds anyway, "I uhh di'n't sleep at all...me mind was too avid to do tha' and besides yer garden is very pretty, I 'ad to explore it a little bit..."

"Right but ye didn' 'ave to make breakfast...yer me guest, I should be makin' pancakes fer ye! Though, and this us jus' between us two, they'd probably be burnt black...never learned meself 'ow teh cook, ye see..." George ended with a small pleasant laugh.

"I s'pose i's me way of saying thank you fer lettin' me stay with ye after yesterday...it means a lot tha' ye trust me, Geo..." Claire looked genuinely happy with where she was this morning.

George grinned sweetly at her, "I trusted ye before but after wha' ye told me abou' all the future stuff, I trust ye even more I think..."

Claire chuckled in appreciation and motioned with her hands for the man to eat the pancakes, George happily obliging in an instant. They ate the breakfast that Claire had prepeared and drank their tea in a small silence, only being filled with sips, munches and scrapes on the plate. George moaned in delight as the pancakes passed through his mouth.

"Good?" she asked amusedly.

George only nodded rapidly, his mouth positively full with the pancakes, "where did ye learn 'ow to make these?! They're bloody delicious! Where 'ave ye been all me life?!"

Claire giggled, a small blush dusting her cheeks, "me gran taught me 'ow to cook really...she's the best cook I know..."

"Me mam always made the tastiest food, these are the next best thing I've ever eaten!" George told her, taking another bite right after.

Claire smiled and finished her own food, relieved that he was fine after all. No harm done by yesterday's talk...hopefully.

As George had finished eating as well and stuck to sipping the tea, he spoke to Claire again, "not sure if ye already knew bu' we're leaving again today...never stayin' still fer too long, y'know..."

He looked a bit wistful, maybe missing the stillness of life before fame, but Claire didn't prod, choosing to nod as a sign of acknowledgement. When they had finished breakfast, George insisted upon doing the washing up. Claire did put up a bit of a fight to this but he counterargued that she was the guest after all and she'd already made him breakfast. To that she argued that breakfast was her way of saying thank you, the man not accepting that as valid enough. George just stood at the sink, doing the washing up and not paying her any mind. Claire just gave up at the sight, chuckled and walked upstairs to the guest room to get ready for the day.

It was maybe half an hour later that they hopped into the car that Brian had so gracefully sent for them. George told her that they'd all be meeting up at the train station and then hopping onto yet another train, heading to yet another town for yet another concert.

The car ride was spent in relative silence and Claire dreaded having to see John. She'd heard of how nasty he could truly be when you were on his bad side. And Claire was pretty sure that the argument they'd had had been enough to thrust her into the bad side of John Lennon. George seemed to have picked up on her distressed state and so he pulled her into a side hug.

"Don' worry abou' John, luv, if 'e gets nasty on ye then me, Paul and Rings will defend ye anyway..." George rubbed the girl's shoulder tenderly with his guitar-calloused hands.

Claire leaned into his touch and let the wordied sigh tumble from her lips. Nodding along to George's words of encouragement, Claire decided that she'd let herself worry about John when it becomes absolutely unavoidable. None of that now though, here and now she'd just enjoy the peacfulness of George embracing her. The man exuded a sense of calm and sweet serenity, something that Claire already expected from him based on how he'd been cldescribed to her. And George's aura of calmness rubbed off on Claire as well, putting her in a sleepy mood.

George probably would've let her sleep for the moment, knowing that she spent all of last night awake. But sadly the car had already rolled to a stop at the station and they had to exit it. Two large men greeted them as they climbed out and then guided them to the train where everyone else was apparently already waiting on them. George and Claire entered the train car, saying goodmorning to everyone present at the moment.

As Geo was off to the buffet for a peek at what they'd served, Claire took a seat next to Ringo, who she deemed the most aproachable at the moment. John and Paul were both sitting knee to knee and eye to eye, discussing something that only made sense to them, laughing and smiling fondly at their best friend. Both did loosely acknowledge Claire and Geo when they entered but it wasn't anything big beyond a muffled goodmorning and a barely spared glance.

Ringo and Claire quickly struck up a chirpy conversation of their own about her quote unquote adventurous night with George. She explained to him in a hushed voice that she'd actually told George her secret; that he knew as well. Ringo, comfortably sitting next to her, nodded thoughtfully, checking off on his fingers the people who already knew.

"So, that's John, then me, now Geo...when are ye gonna tell Paul? Y'know with all the others knowing as well, 'm begining teh feel less special..." Ringo said with a fake pout and a flutter of his eyelashes, his eyes appearing larger, bluer and filled with emotion.

Claire chuckled lightly at this, giving his brown hair a small ruffle. Ringo laughed as well and drew back from her teasing hands, quickly shaking his head, to fix his messed up hair. He settled in his seat, smiling fondly at the girl, his blue eyes twinkling with delight.

"I d'know when I'll tell Paul...probably when I get a word alone with 'im. Seems 'e's never alone and when we are, all 'e does is try an' flirt, hardly leaving me any room to get a word in..." Claire sighed, her smile gradually drooping until she looked tiredly out of the window, landscapes zooming by quickly.

Ringo put a hand on her's, "tha's jus' McCartney, luv, 'e likes attention and now 'e 'as ye as a target of 'is charms...don' take it teh 'eart, luv, really."

Calire put her other hand on top of Ringo's that was already covering her first one and squeezed it. He took it as a means of saying thank you for the kind words and all. The man simply smiled at Claire, happy do be of help.

A cough that was meant to grab their attention resounded from in front of the seat that thw two were sat on. Claire and Ringo's heads snapped to see who was standing over them, finding none other than John. His face displayed a small residue of nervousness and something more agressive. As he eyed their connected hands, his eyes darkened and his lip tightened into and even thinner line.

"Hi..." he drawled with a small sneer, "may I 'ave a word with ye, Claire luv? In private?"

Said girl exchanged a look of caution with Ringo. He seemed to only encourage her to go with John. Claire sighed a small sound and then got up from her seat, receiving one last, reasuring pat on her hand from Ringo who smiled earnestly at the both of them.

John gestured for Claire to follow as he lead the way out of the train car that they were currently in. They shuffled along a hallway and entered one of the empty private compartments, sitting on opposite sides. Claire gulped inaudibly, John sensing her aprehension from where he sat.

"Calm down, 'm not 'ere teh bite yer 'ead off, luv..." John spoke with a faintly sad frown.

"Then what? Is this just gonna be more of yesterday, John? 'Cause I don' know if I can stand more of tha'..." Claire wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive gesture.

John let out a sound of frustration, his one hand coming to scratch at his sideboard, a nervous tick he still hadn't shaken off, "no, Claire, none of tha'...'m over it meself...I-I don' want teh fight with ye anymore, alright?"

The girl sat in silence, she had not expected that. Claire didn't meet his eye, choosing to rather look at the wildlife that they were curently speeding past. John watched her face for any indication of a negative reaction to his words but when he found none, he pushed forwards with what he had to say.

"Claire, I hate tha' I yelled at ye yesterday and said all those nasty things...I shouldn't've done any of tha'...an' I didn't even mean what I said! I love 'aving ye around, so do the other lads, 'm just so scared over everything and about what ye being sent 'ere to the past means fer all of us..." John was heavily rambling, looking desperately at the girl for confirmation that it wasn't just him going completely batshit crazy, "I want ye teh stay 'ere fer as long as possible, luv, ye've made all of our day's more fun and bearable since ye arrived..."

By the end of his speech John was speaking lowly, softly as he searched for Claire's brown eyes. She lifted her gaze slowly, settling on him. He closed his mouth, wanting to say so much more but not finding the courage to do so. John's head fell into his hands and he groaned in frustration. When he felt a warm hand softly stroking his back, the man lifted his head back up to look at the source.

Claire had moved to sit next to him and was now looking sweetly at John, melting all of his insides into a mush of feelings, "John, i's okay...'m also sorry abou' what I said to ye...ye 'ave been so caring ever since I arrived, always makin' sure 'm doing okay. I shouldn't 'ave called ye a selfish prick, yer none of those things, John...ye were the first one who trusted me and ye 'elped me through it all...I-I really, really do appreciate ye, I do. 'm thankful tha' I was sent to ye, John, and I'm glad ye were the one who took a chance on me..."

Claire was smiling at John, rubbing his back, her words making him feel the best he's felt since yesterday. John pulled her into a tight, warm embrace, holding her there for as long as she would let him. Somehow he hoped Claire would never pull away. And as stupid as it sounded, he wished to just stay like this forever, rotting in the train compartment but being in her gentle arms all the while. It sounded sappy, John realized, and so he discreetly discarded the thought to the depths of his muddled mind and enjoyed her embrace anyway.

After an unspecifiable amount of time they did let go, John suggesting they get back to the others or they'd probably start wondering. He noted the look of disappointment etched plain on Claire's face but didn't mention it. John tugged her hand into his, giving it a last, loving squeeze, while they moved as slowly as possible through the moving train.

The car in which all the rest were still idly sat, now faced them and John opened the door, not letting go of her hand. Ringo opened his mouth to say something as they passed by him, thinking Claire would sit back into place next to him, but then he saw John's tight, almost possesive, grip on Claire's hand and the look that John sent him and closed his mouth back up. George had also returned from his food excursion, sitting with Paul on the setee, both their eyes following the pair that had just entered.

John tugged her down on a seat of their own, rushing off to pour them tea with the widest, most sattisfied grin on his small mouth. Everyone gathered only as much as that the two had made up and yet again the rest of the Beatles would have to endure John being unnaturally clingy to her. But as long as no angry tension was felt in the room, they would be fine with it. Ringo got up, drawing a chair from nearby and joined Paul and George by the large setee. They let their eyes cast over the two every once in a while as they discussed matters over a game of cards.

Claire gushed to John about her childhood pet dog named Leo, " 'e was the best boy ever! I loved 'im so, so much...I remember we used to 'ave a backyard then and I didn't 'ave all too many friends as a kid so I played with Leo outside. I could run around fer hours, chasing 'im, playing with the ball and all those things..."

John side-eyed the wistful girl, "personally I don' understand all the rage over dogs...me aunt Mimi 'ad a cat an' 'e would scratch me all the time when I tried pickin' 'im up but then at night 'e would come and lay down on me stomach or chest and all would be forgotten...great little git 'e was, loved the shite out 'im."

Claire smiled but rolled her eyes nonetheless, "ye see! Dogs do tha' too. Leo would come into me room at night and lay down at the foot of the bed or wherever was free...plus dogs can't scratch ye!"

"Christ yer just as dog obsessed as Macca!" John rubbed his face, Paul perking up at the mention of his name, "but ye see, luv, dogs can bite ye...and then yer taking all them toys and their slobber is all over it, i's disgusting, it is."

Paul had strolled over to them, hearing part of the discussion but not enough to get what was going on, "what on earth are ye two talkin' bout? Wha's disgusting?"

John looked up at his friend, chuckling incredulously, "Claire luv, 'ere thinks dogs are better than cats! Unbelievable I say!"

Claire smacked him lightly, her own face adorned with an amused yet fond smile as she locked eyes with Paul, "tha's because they are, John! Leo was the sweetest thing on four legs to walk this God forsaken Earth..."

Paul's eyes sparkled with unbridled glee and he plopped down next to her, "you 'ad a dog?! I've always wanted one!"

Claire thought of Paul's love for Martha and an even brighter smile graced her features, "yea! I 'ad a dog when I was little an' still lived in South Shields. 'e was a golden retriever and me mum named 'im Leo. Me family 'ad a house with a backyard so I would play with 'im all the time!"

Paul was smiling as bright as the sun and the two began to excitedly chat about dogs and the lot. This went on for so long that John, missing the attention he had by talking to Claire, began to grumble little nonsense noises. However, Paul and Claire were so enraptured by the conversation and each other that they paid him no mind. This put John on the sour end of his mood spectrum and he continued to grumble nonetheless.

George and Ringo found this quite amusing really. Watching the two excitedly yap on about dogs and pets in general while John sat next to the two shining suns, looking rather like an angry rain cloud. He was just pouting like a child who'd been denied candy by a parent.

The train kept rolling ever closer to their destination, Brian coming in and telling them that they were about 50 or so minutes away from their stop. As he left, Paul and Claire's chatting slowly came to an end. Paul got up, asking her if she wanted to grab some tea with him. Claire declined politely with a small charming smile and Paul was gone.

Now John swooped back in, taking the conversation into his own hands before Geo or Ringo could. Again, they found this a bit comical to say the least.

John sat with Claire, talking to her about whatever he wanted and felt like at the moment. Currently their topic was John's eventful days as an art school student in Liverpool and his art in general.

"I 'ad that book of yer's back 'ome on me bookshelf actually..." Claire told him with a cheery smile.

John quirked an eyebrow, "be careful who ye talk to abou' tha', s'not been published yet. We're gonna 'ave a private release party an' all on the 22nd of March actually."

Her cheeks tinted a pretty shade of pink, her thin lips forming an 'o' shape. The man laughed, his cackling tinged with a pleasant emotion.

"But did ye like it?" John asked, his voice lowered, after all he cared about her opinion on him and his work.

Laughing sweetly, Claire nodded, "yes, I did, John, t'was funny really. Ye butchered so many of the easy words yet the more complicated ones ye spelled and used perfectly...I always wondered if ye did it on purpose..."

John playfully shrugged his shoulders, a smirk of some sort on his lips, "what 'bout the drawings then? And Macca's little introduction?"

"Oh I absolutely loved yer drawings, completed the stories and all tha'. I especially love 'ow ye jus' draw whatever ye feel like and whichever way ye want to...Paul's intro was nice, I was both surprised and unsurprised teh find ye 'ad to 'ave his input into yer work," Claire explained glancing down at her fingers.

He hummed a response to her words and then asked her why it was unsurprising, "well, ye always made the best things when ye worked together, didn't ye? Or at the very least inspired each other...Later on-"

She cut herself off, realizing what teritory she was stepping into. Claire coughed awkwardly, deciding to change the topic to something less harmful. Or maybe telling him to not cut Paul off and the other way around would do them good? Something to think about for Claire.

"Anyway..." she trailed off and then a thought struck her, "oh! I...and I know ye're not gonna like this, I uhh might've told George about the whole future thing..."

John's eye sprang wide open, a little more and Claire was sure they'd just tip over and fall out, "why?! Fer what possible reason did ye do tha'?!"

He was now whisper yelling, trying to be discreet about what they were talking about.

"Well 'e 'ad been so nice to me the whole evening and then we were jus' sitting outside in his backyard and he confronted me abou' it, saying 'e could tell I wasn't being completely truthful...I tried denying it but 'e was so insistant. Then I thought "why not tell 'im? 'e wont go 'round spouting to everyone 'm kookier than an american tryin' teh tell the Queen 'ow to be a queen" and so I told George..." Claire explained to John who seemed to be trying to stifle a laugh.

"And 'ow did 'e take it? Well, 'm guessing, since 'e 'asn't gone full catatonic?" John burst through with a laugh anyway.

Claire chuckled, relieved that John wasn't angry with her, "at first 'e was a bit out of it but then 'e went to sleep and 'e was fine in the mornin'."

A yawn fell over her lips and tumbled into John's ears, making him frown a tad, "are ye tired, luv?"

"Mhmmm, didn't sleep all night..." she yawned again, feeling suddenly very drowsy.

Claire's head fell against John's shoulder and she leaned into him. The man's arms encircled her body with a gentleness he didn't remember possesing a few weeks ago. She snuggled her face into his neck, inhaling the smell of John, aftershave, old paper and fresh clothes. The content sigh that Claire let slip made John's heart skip like a little girl pretending to be a princess. He smiled tenderly down at the resting Claire, daring to let his hand caress her soft hair. John was unaware that he was being watched by George and Ringo, Paul still being away busy with enjoying his tea and whatnot.

While Ringo smiled at the two, happy for John and Claire seeing that they had made up, George was less than content. He disliked the awful way his stomach twisted at the sight of them. It felt sickening, the jealousy, and so Geo forced himself to look away for his own and everyone else's sake. No need for such negativity over your friends.

"They look adorable together, don't ye think?" Ringo asked the other man next to him.

George scoffed, rather choosing to observe his hand of cards, "yeah...adorable..."

Ringo frowned at the other's tone but decided to leave it for now. Instead he focused on playing cards with George as a way to distract him. A good twenty minutes later Paul came back into the car, smiling and raving about the delicious cake they'd served him. His eyes fell on John and Claire on the seat where he'd left them earlier. At this point John had also closed his eyes and leant his head against the top of her head, letting himself enjoy the moment for once.

Paul's smile dropped a little and he sat down on a soft chair nearby, switching through the station's on the small radio device that had been left there. He found a good channel that played rock 'n' roll and stayed on that one.

The train was rolling into the town's station, making John open his eyes from his sleepless rest. Ringo told him that they were indeed about to stop at their destination. This left John to the task of waking Claire who seemed to be snoozing so very comfortably on him.

Eventually all of them were awake and leaving the train. Of course the station was filled with fans yet again and the Beatles went out first. They were surrounded by police officers, trying to protect the musicians from being mobbed. After a good minute or five Brian left the train along with Claire and Mal. He decided that it was one of his brighter ideas to have Mal come along with them to look after Claire. God knows that the lads, especially John, would kill him for losing their 'Claire luv'.

Brian didn't hate or dislike the girl, not at all. It was just that her arrival and subsequent staying with them was causing him a few additional headaches. Simple as that. But he was sure that that would fade with time, seeing as she was willing to carry her own weight by helping Brian with all the work he was strugling to do alone. He was glad that John hadn't brought 'round some stuck up girl that was difficult and refused to work or cooperate with others but wanted to stay regardless.

They all met up in the designated car yet again and were driven over to the hotel that had been already reserved for them. Paul was the one who brought up a question John was silently hoping none of the others would ask. Of course, expect Paul to do such a thing.

"Mmm, Claire luv, ye know that ye don't 'ave teh strictly stay with Johnny, right? I, for example, wouldn't mind if ye decided teh give Johnny some space and stay with me," Paul was doing it again, John noticed; the man's eyes were hooded, voice almost disturbingly sultry, and that look in his eyes that got birds into his bed just like that, within a flutter of his long lashes.

Claire seemed to actually ponder the possiblity of the suggestion and John was floundering, his head moving between Claire's thoughtful expression and Paul's predator-like gaze at her.

"Luv, ye absolutely don't bother me! I already told ye I like 'aving ye around," John tried a smidge desperately but it seemed to come too late as Claire spoke right after him with a small smile.

"That's alright, I think a change is in order...would any of ye mind if I stayed with one of ye?" she asked, looking around at the Beatles.

When all of them displayed their obvious lack of minding such an event, Claire spoke again, her eyes on a particular beatle, "well, then I want teh stay with Ringo."

Paul's sultry look was knocked off of his face in an instant, replaced by a stunned pout of his lips, "wh-what?"

Obviously the lad had been hoping, or rather thinking, Claire would pick him to stay with. John burst into a loud cackling laugh at Paul's expense, making the man blush a bright embarrassing red. George didn't seem fazed by this entire exchange. Like he'd told himself yesterday, better it be Ringo that Claire stays with than Paul. No doubt he would've preffered himself to be chosen over them all but who was he to complain after the entirety of yesterday evening and this morning.

Ringo, however, was beaming, his eyes locked with Claire's. He was very pleased with her choice, the girl was great fun and he'd have some nice company for the evening.

But as the car rolled onwards, Brian sat in the front seat and ignored this whole mess. John spoke out, realizing that for the second night in a row he would miss having Claire to cuddle into.

"But, Claire, ye do realize ye're breaking tradition like this, right? I's become a thing tha' ye stay with me... I'm gonna miss ye!" John spoke with an exaggerated crying voice, his hands reaching out for her and his face contorted into a big ol' frown.

Claire chuckled adorably, taking John's outstretched hand, intertwining their fingers and giving them a squeeze, "we broke tradition jus' last night, though..."

"No," he said defiantly, huffing like a child would, "tha' was different. When we stay in hotel's ye've always, one hudred percent, stayed with me..."

Giving him her sweetest, most teeth rotting smile, Claire told John, "I promise I'll stay with ye tomorrow."

John's face broke out into a grin brighter than the sun itself and he nodded eagerly. George was looking out of the window disinterestedly and Ringo sat in his own seat, smiling happily to himself. Paul, however, was staring open-mouthed at the pair, bewildered beyond comprehension. How had John just done that? He'd gotten Claire to do what he wanted and it seemed so easy as well. Then why the bloody hell did it never work for him?! Like just now when he was pulling out all his best tricks but it didn't garner him any positive results, leaving Ringo to gather all the fruit of his efforts. Paul guessed he'd have to either learn the tricks John was using or just put more effort into how he went about wooing Claire.

And so they all are upstairs at the hotel, settling down their things. Brian had explained that tonight they'd thankfully have a free evening, so they were allowed to not hurry with unpacking or anything. But the five were not allowed to leave the hotel, in fear that they might get mobbed by fans who'd found out about where the Beatles were staying. It was freaky how they always seemed to find out this particular set of information.

Brian exited the suite, heading off to do his own business and leaving the five on their own accord. First it was filled by changing out of their 'monkey-suits' as John so graciously put it and into something actually comfortable. The five met back in the sitting room, settling down on the sofas and chairs scattered all around. Claire found herself sitting against the  lush pillows of the loveseat, Paul rushing in at an unnatural speed to sit next to her, therefore occupying the entire loveseat with just the two of their bodies. The other three beatles eyed him strangely, bringing a mild blush to Paul's cheeks, which he quickly hid by focusing on the strings of the accoustic guitar he'd brought.

John tutted at the man and sat down on the carpeted floor by Claire's side of the loveseat, taking some pillows from the sofa to be more comfortable. Ringo and George settled down nearby as well, more on Paul's side of the loveseat though.

They all held instruments, well except for Ringo and Claire, ready to just strum along and relax for the rsst of the time. They exchanged conversation, their fingers lovingly fiddling with the guitar strings. When a more distinct tune begined to surface, the Beatles urged Claire to sing along.

She recognized it as a song her grandmother had always loved when sung by the Beatles, _"There were bells on a hill_  
_But I never heard them ringing_  
_No, I never heard them at all_  
_Till there was you..."_

Claire sang, letting her voice be heard, she didn't feel embarrassed to sing proudly with the Beatles. Paul couldn't help himself after all and joined in on the second line of the song. He was completely infatuated by the sound of his voice mixed with Claire's in the most magnificent way. And when she smiled over at him, encouraging him to sing this as a duet with her, Paul's face was lit up by a thousand megawatt grin. He swore up and down that nothing could wipe it away.

His fingers almost stumbled over the strings of the guitar due to little nervous shake they'd acquired, _"There were birds in the sky_  
_But I never saw them winging_  
_No, I never saw them at all_  
_Till there was you..."_

And then on and on they went, creating magic with the guitar skills of John, George and Paul, the steady beating of Ringo's hands against the floor and finally the harmonic mix of two voices. Frankly, the five wished they could record this moment on tape and relisten to it over and over and over for forever. They were all smiling freely at each other, feeling joy and contentedness for the bubble of music they'd crafted around the loveseat.

The song was winding down right about now, scooting into the last few lines of song, _"There was love all around_  
_But I never heard it singing_  
_No, I never heard it at all_  
_Till there was you..."_

Claire closed her mouth and sunk into the pillows nestled behind her, letting Paul finish the last line of _'till there was you'_ on his own. The Beatles played them out, finishing the song nicely, smiles still set on their cheeks. Silence enveloped the room like a blanket, the song's sweetness having made the already tired five people sleepier by every passing second.

Paul was the first to fold, he yawned loudly, covering his open mouth with his hand. The the man placed his guitar down on the floor, listening to the way the strings vibrated upon contact. He then pulled his sock-clad feet up unto the loveseat and laid his body down horizonatally across it. Paul let his head fall shamelessly into Claire lap without a second thought. He snuggled up to her, making himself comfortable enough to actually sleep.

Just as he lay there, he felt fingers tread through his dark hair, messing it up but dear lord did Paul not give a single shit about that. He savoured the sensation and soon fell asleep right then and there.

John followed suit and leaned against Claire legs that hung over the seat, making himself as comfortable as one could on a floor. The pillows certainly helped and John dozed off, escaping to dreamland for a while. He'd made a very skillful nest for himself out of the pillows, knowing well enough what it was he liked. His position wasn't natural at all though, one leg folded against the floor and the other propped up high against his chest. What a strangely bendable man...

George and Ringo took the cue that this would probably be a sort of group nap. Not finding any strength to move to the sofa or any of the comfy looking chairs, they settled on staying on the floor. They leaned against one another, surprised to find it was actually quite good for comfort. Their breathing leveled out and George and Ringo had also fallen into a wonderful slumber. It looked incredibly adorable, the two of them basically cuddling up to the other.

Claire had managed to keep her eyes open long enough to see everyone else drift off. Keeping her hands in Paul's impeccably soft hair, Claire leaned completely into the cushions. The sleep she'd lost over last night had finally caught up to her and Claire was out like a light. A small smile of content remained on her cheeks until she was fully unconscious.

And then, just like that, Claire is woken from her slumber. She looked around at what had caused her to wake, the only thing out of place being John. The man was not in his spot on the floor where he'd fallen asleep, leaning against her legs, rather he was standing in the kitchen with his back turned to everyone else. John seemed to be chopping something on a board, quietly humming and occasionally singing along to a song playing exclusively in his head. Claire let a wispy chuckle fall from her lips at the sight of John bopping his behind along to the beat of whatever song he was humming, looking positively adorable.

When the man heard the distinctly female chuckle resonate from the sitting room, he turned around to face Claire. John sent her a playful glare, the girl only laughing more. He then mockingly stuck out his tongue and turned back around to continue on what he'd been doing previously.

Claire decided she'd join him in whatever it was he was making. Just as she began to lift her body from the very comfy, mind you, loveseat, arms sprung out and wrapped around her hips, keeping Claire down on the seat. Paul groaned in protest at feeling her attempted departure and cuddled more into her, an obvious sign that he wished to keep her there on thr loveseat. Claire sighed at the admitedly very cute man. She then looked to John, who'd heard Paul's sounds of protest, for help in the matter of getting up. John, the useless git, chuckled at the girl's expense and turned back around yet again. Claire then shot a disaprooving look at his back and John, somehow having sensed her grimace, only laughed louder.

Figuring she'd not be going anywhere anytime soon, Claire sighed, shaking her head, and settled down more comfortably. She began to tread her fingers through Paul's hair all over again, taking out any knots and just generally massaging his scalp with light movements. He seemed to be enjoying it if the sounds he was making were anything to go by. Paul was humming in pleasure, it honestly almost sounded like purring, and was also cuddling her stomach even closer than before. Claire noted the cute smile on Paul's face as he slept, deciding that this might just be better than getting up and seeing what John was doing in the kitchen.

She stayed awake for the remainder of minutes until John came in, waking the rest up. Carefully combing Paul's hair with her hands, she hummed a tune of her own. Her eyes had been closed but sleep didn't come to her for the second time. It felt nice to just rest calmly with someone as soft as he was. Claire's fingers would occasionally brush against Paul's forehead or cheeks and then she'd hear him hum with content.

Paul had woken up just a few minutes ago, not wanting to move from his most comfortable situation. He was gonna drag this out for as long as he could. Dear lord did he enjoy her hands tenderly lingering everywhere on his skin, hearing her hum some tune that he was lost on and feeling the warmth of another body underneath his arms.

Suddenly a loud intruding sound startled all four of the still sleeping people. It made Paul shoot straight up from the loveseat and tumble into the ground. Sadly, as he did this, he brought Claire down with him, both of them landing hard on the floor with an audible thud.

The sound they'd heard was John storming into the room, screaming a song off key and banging together some pots he'd found. Ringo, poor lad, had jumped straight to his feet, swaying from the bloodrush he'd gotten. Managing to stay steady, Ringo found the source of the intrusion with his eyes. George had clearly woken up as well but his only real action had been to cover his ears and groan in pure annoyance at the older man. Meanwhile, Claire and Paul were still struggling on the floor, having tangled their limbs together during the fall.

They managed to untangle themselves and Paul got to his feet. He stormed right over to John and stopped the man from making any more of the horrible sounds. John just grinned faux innocently at his friend and let Paul take the pots away from him. After all, he'd still have his voice if he wanted an encore of the amusing events...well, amusing to _him_.

Ringo had shuffled over to Claire and extended his hand to help her up from the floor. The two exchanged a look of annoyance at John and his antics as Claire was heaved to her feet. She hadn't noticed that her legs had gone numb from having been in the same position for what was presumably hours. Claire was unpleasnatly surprised out of nowhere when they gave out from under her. Thank god Ringo'd been there to catch her before Claire could hit the floor and get hurt.

"Woah!" the girl exclaimed upon being caught in the man's arms.

Ringo steadied her with a kind hand on the small of her back, "alright there, luv?"

Claire nodded and then looked down, glaring at her legs, "bloody traitors...useless ye are!"

Ringo let out a laugh at her choice of words and let Claire walk her way to the kitchen. He was a pace or two behind, in case something happened again and he could catch her. Claire dumped herself in a chair by the table, Ringo plopping next to her.

Paul had already been sat before them, leaving only George and John non-present. They watched curiously as John walked his way over to George and poked the lad with his foot. George only grumbled some kind of response, clearly that had not been what John had had in mind. He then crouched down in front of the lad and prodded at him with a finger. George swatted at John's hand as you would at a pesky house-fly.

"Georgie porgie, I made food fer all of us, it'd be nice of ye teh join us. There's nice sandwiches, some tea and would ye believe that they also 'ad yer exact favorite type of biscuit, ye lucky bastard!" John's words had worked like magic, George shot up from his place on the floor and ran to the kitchen, sitting down by the table.

John only made a cackling sound of a laugh and joined the rest in the kitchen, "righty, are ye ready teh taste the best sandwich ever teh exist?!"

After an unenthusiastic second during which Ringo had begun to open his mouth for a comment, John quickly interrupted, "Don't answer tha'!"

John served them each a cup of the promised tea and then placed down the large plate that held exactly five sandwiches, one for each. The others were amazed by how good, neat and overall appetizing they looked, John had outdone himself, truly. They dug into the food, finding that it tasted just as good as it looked.

As everyone praised John and his sandwiches, he tried not show that he was just as surprised as they over the quality of his culinary work. Yeah, so he too hadn't expected too good of an outcome, after all he was no cook. But these were bloody fantastic! John put a look of confidence on his face, thinking to show everyone that he knew the food would be good and the others shouldn't have ever doubted him.

The rest of their evening after the diner had been uneventful to say the least. Brian had stopped by at one point delivering to Claire what he wanted her to do for him. And then after Brian had left again, they switched on the TV and watched whatever was on, commenting on it for comedic purposes. They all went to bed fairly early, meaning to get a good nights sleep after all those days during which they couldn't or hadn't. Claire had gone off with Ringo, leaving John to stick out his lower lip to show an exaggerated pout. The girl had chuckled, said goodnight and shut the door behind herself, leaving John alone in the space between all the doors to the bedrooms. He shuffled into his own bed and fell asleep soon thereafter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously this was very centered around Paul and John...sorry. But! If you're here for more George and Ringo action, well then, my dear friend, stick around for future chapters.
> 
> Right, thank you for reading this and bearing with me :)


End file.
